Only If For A Night
by crumpled horned snorkack
Summary: A romance story about Patrick Jane in his boy wonder days at the carnival. One version of the prequel to The Mentalist. Rated M for language, graphic lemons and adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story about the Mentalist. Will contain sexual content and language. Please forgive me if I get my tenses muddled up, I speak and write it fluently but English is my second language. Please review for your thoughts. I know it's not a popular ship but it's my favourite **

Patrick Jane woke up to sunlight streaming through his curtains. He shielded his eyes and blindly reached for his clock on the windowsill. "Shit!" he cried out, jumping out of bed and pulling on his clothes hurriedly. He stumbled out of his tiny room, piece of toast between his teeth, doing up the belt of his pants when he saw a middle-aged woman sitting at the table.

"Oh sorry hun," she said. She was scantily dressed, smelling of cheap booze and cigarettes. "I'm waiting for him to wake up so I can get paid." She pointed her horrifically long and painted fingernail in the direction of his father's bedroom. Patrick sighed and threw her a fifty dollar note. "Here, is that enough?"  
"It'll do," she said tucking it into her bra and standing up eyeing off Patrick. He was attractive. Tall and handsome with piercing green eyes and curly blonde hair. "Forgive your mother," he offered to her as he ducked under her arm and headed for the door. "You need to bite the bullet and accept help so you can start being a good role model for your son."

He hated the way his father's ladies-of-the-night looked at him like that. He was worried his father would take notice and find some sort of horrendous way to get money out of that. He was nineteen now and fast growing out of being a _boy wonder._ He ran to his Jeep as was late for picking up his best friend. He could have walked to her trailer in a matter of minutes but he enjoyed the few minutes of car ride they had alone together. It prepared him for the rest of the day full of conning and deceit.

Patrick pulled his beat up Jeep outside Angela's trailer. She was waiting for him on her step wearing his pin striped hat she had claimed a year ago. He thought it looked better on her anyway. She flung her satchel full of books over her shoulder and sauntered over to his car in those quirky high waisted shorts that showed off her slender legs and willowy figure that Angela had developed. He was nineteen and Angela was seventeen now and no longer a child. Patrick had paid attention to this fact. Unfortunately so had every other man.

"Hey Boy Wonder, you're late," Angela teased him jumping into the passenger seat, taking off her sunglasses looking all starry-eyed and glowing. Patrick thought she looked incredible since she barely ever got any sleep and was up doing god knows what til god knows when with her fuckhead boyfriend of one week, Rory, as they had gone out last night. She always looked incredible though. To him, anyway.

"Good morning, my dear," he said. "You're looking positively radiant today."  
She rolled her eyes at him as if he were teasing her and put her sunglasses back on, a small smile dancing on her lips. Patrick knew Angela was not a morning person and was mystified by her apparent happiness.

"What's got little Ruskin all lit up?" he asked curiously. She was too confusing for him to read which he had given up on years ago. Angela usually would tell him the truth to whatever he asked anyway. She was a terrible liar.  
"Oh, nothing," she sighed happily biting the corner of her bottom lip and smiling mysteriously to herself. She went to fiddling with the suspenders she had clipped to her high waisted shorts. Always an odd sense of style, that one but it suited her.

"Well, it's not often that I get you this cheerful pre-coffee….what's say we ditch and muck about town for the day?" his eyes danced at the thought.

"No, Patrick!" she protested sitting upwards and facing him. His heart thudded whenever she called him Patrick. "You've got your shows today and I've got all my jobs to do. We would get in such trouble."  
"Always the good girl, Evangeline," he chuckled tucking a wavy tendril of her dark hair behind her ear careful not to displace her trilby hat.

Angela stiffened at his touch, her lips turning into a slight frown. He retracted his hand. Was it something he said? She was always fake-annoyed at the worst when he teased her with her proper name. His touch was far less intimate then most of the nights they spent laying on Patrick's small bed, their conversations getting more ridiculous the more delirious with sleep they got until they feel asleep holding one another. He cleared his throat and got back on topic.

"Well, for you. Only because you're my best friend," he smiled turning toward the Big Wheel of the carnival. _And I'm in love with you_.

Yep. He was in love with his best friend. His _taken_ best friend. He first realised it last year at Pete and Sam's wedding that they went to together, at the carnival when the marks had cleared out and they set up. He had an excuse to hold Angela in his arms all night and it seemed so right and she looked so beautiful and smelt so good that he saw her as a woman and not as his troublemaker tomboy best friend. Sure, he knew he loved her all along, but that's the night he knew for certain it was serious, all consuming, all encompassing love. It's definitely fucked.

He pulled up near the Big Wheel where all the shitbombs were parked and younger crowd were congregated, loitering and avoiding helping their parents. Most of them came from families of drifters and never staying in the same carnival circuit for very long. Angela's thirteen year old brother Danny and Patrick's friend, Jack who was being trained as a magician, were delicately repairing some sort of gadget for a performance whilst half-heartedly listening to a recently-acquired twenty year old, a slimy looking weasel by the name of Aaron who had his arm around a redhead who worked in the showbag stand.

Nearly everyone was paired off in the carnie life. Even the newbies were finding solace in strangers of the carnival. It would seem like the natural thing for Angela and he to be together, except that she has a tendency to date assholes and he seemed to be putting his dick wherever these days.

Patrick cut the engine and jumped out the car, running around the back to open Angela's door for her but as usual, Angela had already flung her door open and clumsily toppled out of the car. All the grace and balance of a three-legged giraffe that girl. She was too clumsy to work in any of the shows so she was usually scattered everywhere doing all sorts of errands and jobs. It bothered Patrick that she always opened her own doors, pulled out her own chair, took off her coat before he got the chance to do it for her.

He helped her to her feet and wrestled her book bag from her to carry and wrapped his arm around her small waist. She leaned into him with ease and fit so perfectly and comfortably into his side. They walked over to Jack and Danny who smiled as soon as he saw the pair of them.

Aaron smirked when he saw Angela and dropped his arm from Leonie, the redhead, to swagger over to them. He lazily slung his arm over Angela's shoulders and she cringed leaning further into Patrick's side. Aaron whispered something into Angela's ear before laughing and poking her in the ribs.

"Shut up!" Angela snapped, her cheeks going pink. Patrick stared blankly at his fiery one still holding her.

"Oh, no! Paddy doesn't know?" Aaron chuckled teasingly, while the rest of them exchanged confused looks. Clearly, he wasn't the only one that didn't know what was going on.

Angela's face was contorted with fury and embarrassment as she freed herself from Patrick's hold and stormed off in Pete's direction. Presumably to help him with the animals or the lights as she usually did.

"What's she done now?" Jack asked, but Aaron shrugs and walks off with Leonie. "_Dick_," Patrick thought as he held Danny back from walloping Aaron. Danny may be tall and quick but he was built like a beanpole and five years younger.

It was his lunchtime break by the time he got to see Angela again. Usually when she got a break she would come to watch his show, in his pin striped trilby hat pulling faces at the most inappropriate times when he was in the most serious parts of his performance. But he had done three shows and still no sign of her. He could spot her through the sea of people with ease. She was sitting cross-legged under a tree with a notebook in her lap. Patrick could tell she was composing as she had her eyes closed, lips parted slightly and her fingers were drifting over invisible keys. Her eyes would then pop open and she would scribble down the notes she had composed in her head. She looked sad, not positive like she did this morning when he picked her up.

He silently sat beside her and rested his hand on her knee. She jumped slightly. "Sorry," he apologised looking into her startled blue eyes. "What's wrong, troublemaker?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "I'm fine. It doesn't matter."

"Why can't you tell me? Of all people, we tell each other everything, Angel."

"It doesn't matter," she repeated softly closing her notebook and packing it away. "It has no bearing on our friendship so it doesn't matter."

"If you're keeping things from me, then of course it has an affect on our friendship," he argued putting his other hand on her back.

"Jesus, Patrick, just…I, I slept with Rory," she confessed in a strangled voice fiddling with a lock of hair being careful not to look at him. "I know you hate him and I didn't want you to be mad at me."

Patrick blinked once. Twice before a haze clouded his vision. HisEvangeline is no longer a virgin. That fuckhead took it from her. He couldn't comprehend it. Someone else touching her, having her that way. She told him she wouldn't ever sleep with a guy unless she loved him –they were somewhat different in that aspect of their lives.

She couldn't love this Rory guy. She couldn't. She's too good for him and he was three weeks new to the circuit. He hadn't been dating her for over a week and a half.

"You...you love this guy?" Patrick managed to get out, trying to keep his voice and holding in the pain so much so it felt like his ribs were going to crack.

She didn't look at him but merely nodded and fidgeted with the grass_,_ ripping it out and tearing it into little strips. It was his worst nightmare confirmed. Sure, Patrick slept around usually with older and more experienced women but never had he ever felt any kind of emotion for them. They were using him as well after all and it got a certain someone out of his head for a while. None of them were Angela, but he'd keep trying. Maybe one day, one of them will turn out to be okay and he could get on with his life. He didn't want to love Angela Ruskin, but he did and right now he felt dizzy and nauseated like he had been punched in the chest and winded.

"Is that why you seemed happy this morning?" he managed to choke out as indifferent as possible staring at the ground through the haze clouding his eyes.

She hesitated for a second and glanced briefly at him through the curtain of her hair, then whispered: "Yes, Patrick."  
Something still seemed wrong. She may be the only one he cannot read but she was a terrible liar she certainly didn't seem happy now. Maybe that son of a bitch hurt her. Patrick's hand tightened on her knee and his hand on her back tightened into a fist, clenching the fabric of her shirt. He closed his eyes, exhaling painfully and swore to god - "Patrick," his Angel's voice calming him. "Stop fuming. I'm fine. I know you're getting angry. He didn't hurt me, no more than can be helped, at least…..."

"You seem very upset," he commented trying to keep her talking. He needed her voice. Her calming, beautiful voice to keep talking and distract him so he didn't commit murder.

"I am. It's my personal business and Aaron fucked it up." She rarely swore.

"Why does he even know to begin with?"

"Just drop it, Jane," Angela's eyes were fiery and she shoved her book back into her bag and ran off to her next errand. She was in a habit of doing that today. He ran after her, calling her name but stopped when he ran smack into a short blonde and her things go flying. I bend down to help her pick them up when he realises its Leslie Wilcox aka: Thanksgiving-in-the-back-of-the-Jeep. She was twenty three, a chain smoker and one of the burlesque dancers in the show. And always throwing herself at Patrick or any passing younger man.

"Hey, Patrick," she purred and gives him an enthusiastic smile. Angela's was out of sight by now and Patrick decided not to bother. He was the one who should be mad – not her.

"Leslie," he nodded. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Chasing little Angela Ruskin, again?" she sighed dramatically putting her hand on her hip. "I think she is in the girl's bathroom. I can get her if you'd like."

"No matter, she's throwing a tantrum," Patrick said going to turn away before Leslie grabbed his wrist.  
"Well, you can't blame her, Patrick. She is a child still after all. Not like you or I," she was trying to seduce him. He looked at her styled blonde hair, her brown eyes and tanned skin. Nothing like Angela.

"Hey, want to come for a drive?" he asked and then gave her a charming smile. She accepted his invitation, just as he expected and before he knew it, he was back in his car and she was in his lap, attacking his mouth with her tongue. Normally, he would have said no to a second encounter with Leslie not only because he didn't like to get them too attached but due to her jealousy and malice toward Angela. Patrick never understood why until now, it seemed Leslie was more perceptive to his attraction to this girl more than he had been. But right now, he had to get Ruskin out of his head. Now more than ever.

So the plan was: fall out of love with Angela as soon as possible. He liked the sound of that. No more of this stupid shit. Besides, he was Patrick Jane. He didn't do relationships or love or any of that stupid, pointless stuff. Evangeline Ruskin was not screwing that up for him.

Leslie unbuttons his pants hurriedly and his mind wanders back to his best friend. He wondered if Rory had been gentle with her last night, kissed her softly and stroked her face. If he told her that he loved her every second of the night, told her she was beautiful and held her while she slept. He shuddered at the alternative which Leslie took as a shudder of pleasure. Maybe he coerced or forced her into it. Angela could never say no to someone. She might have scared, lying there not knowing what to do. Maybe she had been in pain and he left afterwards leaving her alone and frightened. His chest started to ache.

"Stop, stop!" Patrick said, gently pushing Leslie's mouth away from his groin.  
"What the hell?" she said angrily her lipstick smeared around her lips.  
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just not...with it."

She sighed and flopped back against the passenger seat and lit up a cigarette and putting it in her mouth. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. When she finished she pulled out a compact and fixed her face, got out of the car and made herself look presentable before walking off to her trailer to prepare for her show.

Patrick ran his fingers through his unruly blonde hair. What the hell was wrong with him? He punched the steering wheel twice before leaving the car. He had no shows of his own scheduled for the rest of the night so he headed to see if Jack was in the middle of a show. Instead he found Danny selling tickets and handing out tokens for the Big Wheel. Danny's face lit up when he saw Patrick. He idolised him.

"Hey Patrick!" he said energetically.  
"Hey Danny," Patrick said swinging to sit on the rail. "Where's your sister?"  
"Oh, Angie," he said smiling and rolling his eyes in an _'of course you want to know where she is'_ sort of way. "She went off with Rory. But she told me to give you this if I saw you."  
The young boy handed Patrick a folded note. Patrick thanked him, ruffled his hair and walked off.  
He unfolded it and saw Angela's usual lovely hand writing.

_Patrick, I'm really sorry. Please meet me at eight o'clock so we can talk before dinner. Love A xx _

He folded up the note and put it in his jacket pocket_. __Just remember the plan, Jane,_ he thought to himself: Fall out of love with Angela. Easier said than done.

Angela was already waiting at his car when he returned to it at eight o'clock and she was leaning against it. It was a warm evening and the sun is shining off of her dark hair and making her skin glow warmly. She's enjoying the warmth and looks more at ease then he'd seen her that day. Maybe her afternoon visit to her beloved Rory made her light up like that. Why couldn't he do that? He could charm any woman; they would become putty in his hands but the one the truly wanted was immune to his talents.

He walked over and she could hear his footsteps so she slowly opened her eyes and turned to face him, offering an apologetic look. She ran up and threw her arms around his neck. He automatically wrapped his arms around her waist but before he could bury his head into her hair or pull her tighter against him, she was out of his arms again and standing in front of him.

"I'm so sorry, Patrick," she said. "I was so horrible to you. You care for me so much and I treat you so badly. I'm so sorry."  
"Hey, it's okay," he said brushing her cheek. "You're allowed to get upset and vent on me sometimes. It's what I'm here for."  
She reached up to his face and his heart stopped at her touch. She touched the corner of his lip with her fingertip, wiping off the excess pink lipstick Leslie had left there.

He looked at her as she stared at her finger. Patrick searched her eyes for any sign of jealousy on her face. He was surprised to see she was thoughtful and then….hopeful? She smiled up at him. "Shall we go for a drive before dinner?"  
"Of course, my dear," he said leading her to his car. He opened her door and took her hand to help her in.

"So you disappeared today," Angela prodded as they drove through windy hills and beautiful trees.

"Yep," he replied smugly. She stared out the window at the passing flashes of green. He loved to speed, she knew, but never when he had her in the car.

"Why do you do it?" she asked. Patrick turned to her and saw her blue eyes were so wide and curious. "I mean go and do whatever with whomever?" _'Whatever with whomever'. _She was so polite and well mannered dancing around what he actually did with women.

"You've known me for how long and now you're questioning my morals?" he chuckled curiously. It wasn't very Angela to go around asking stuff like that. She would make jokes about him, called him somewhat of a manwhore, but never tried to get into his 'psyche' so to speak.

"I just want to know."

"I like sex," he answered simply.

"It's nothing more than that?"

"Nope," he answered confidently, popping the 'p'.

Angela sighed at his admission while fidgeting with her seat belt. He sighed as well. Like he'd really tell her he was trying to fuck away his love for her. "Why?" he asked.

"Just wondering," she said smoothing out her shorts.

"Ange," Patrick said taking a sharp corner and they were nearly back at the carnival. "What did you really want to tell me?"

Angela stared out the window and thought for a moment. "I didn't have sex with Rory."

"What?" he yelled nearly swerving the Jeep off the road before regaining control. "Why the hell would you lie about something like that?"

He stopped the car out the front of his trailer. He looked over to her and she had her lip tucked between her teeth again looking pained. "I'm sorry, Patrick," she murmured. "I just thought…I can't keep…" His usual chatterbox was lost for words. He took her hand and kissed it. "Hey, hey. It's okay, Angel," he whispered. "Come inside with me. Everything's okay."  
His chest was swelling like a balloon. She didn't lose it to a dickhead like Rory. He knew that somewhere there was someone good and pure and honest who deserved Angela and could love her, not as much as he that was impossible. But enough to make her happy and give her a better life.

They walked to the door together and Alex Jane came stumbling out, looking slightly tipsy as usual. Patrick basically ran the show by himself now having no need for his father. The only problem was, he was nineteen and turning into a man and more than a _boy wonder._

"Son," he said gruffly and then noticed Angela beside him. "Ah, Miss Ruskin."  
"Hello, Mr Jane," she said politely. Patrick knew his dad only tolerated Angela's constant presence around his son because he knew she was the only reason he was still in this carnival circuit. That, and if Patrick got into the Ruskin family, their future in the carnival was concrete. He hated the way his father looked at Angela. It was the same look he gave naïve marks when he knew he could get a lot of money from them.

"You two coming?" he said walking away. Everyone ate dinner late together at least once a week when the carnival wrapped up for the night. An idea of Angela's father.  
"Be there shortly," Patrick said entwining Angela's fingers with his own. "Just need to change my shirt."

They head up the steps to the tiny trailer he shared with his father. They barely manage to squeeze through into Patrick's small bedroom which had enough room for a window, his double bed (nearly touching both sides of the wall) and a dresser of clothes at the foot of his bed. The bedroom where the only females who had been in it were Angela and Sam if he ever needed some motherly advice. He liked to keep it sacred so he didn't bring any sexual partners back there. It would turn it into a place he loathed rather than loved and found solace in. It was his and Angela's place.

Angela plonked herself down in the middle of the bed and Patrick laid beside her, leaning on one elbow and staring at her.

"Why'd you lie about it?" he asked. "Sleeping with Rory. Not that I'm unhappy about that," he smiled.

"Aaron kept giving me crap," Angela admitted ashamed that she had let the taunts of some new annoying boy get the better of her.

"About being a virgin?" he said softly and she nodded.

Aaron was a real jackass and Patrick was sure what he said was nothing of consequence, just trying to stir Angela up. "So do you...I mean...want to have sex with Rory?"

"No. We broke up. I don't love him and I kept trying to make myself love him but I think….I don't think that's going to happen for me."

"Are you okay?" he asked propping himself up higher. Inside he was bursting with happiness. Because Angela didn't love Rory and she was perfect and she was here."Yes."

"Okay. Good," he smiled up at her making her smile too. God, she had the most beautiful smile. _Shit_, he thought to himself. _Keep it together_. He thought about their conversation in the car not ten minutes ago.

"Does your sudden interest in my sex life have anything to do with this, Angel?"  
He expected her to giggle or make some witty remark but she turned the most lovely shade of crimson. "You could say that," she mumbled lying back and rolling over. He frowned. She was being awfully and annoyingly cryptic today. He took her hat off and rolled it off the bed before turning her over on her back.

"You're being very obscure today, Miss Ruskin," he said hovering his body over the top of hers. "I don't want to have to seduce the truth behind our erratic behaviour out of you but you're going to twist my arm."  
She rolled her eyes again shoving him in the chest lightly so he chuckled.

"Oh come on, Angela! Just tell me what you want," he smiled eagerly. "What's going on?"

"Oh, it's so silly!" she sighed ridiculously. "I mean it's so silly and irresponsible, but then when I think about it more, it's so logical. I trust you more than anyone in the whole world; I don't think I could trust anyone else to. Oh, but then it might ruin things between us and you're my best friend and the best thing in my life. And if I ruined things what would I do?" her eyes widened in horror and she was more arguing with herself than explaining anything to Patrick.

"That makes no sense," he whinged bouncing her slightly.

"No forget it," she sighed. "It's too embarrassing. Let's just go meet the others…."  
"Angel….when has anything been too embarrassing for us," he chuckled. "I rub your stomach when you have period pain. You iron my underwear!"  
"You'll say no and then everything will be ruined," Angela cried out, trying to break free from his grip but he wasn't letting her go. Not when she got him this intrigued.

"When do I ever say no to you, Evangeline?" he countered softly staring into her eyes and taking her aback. Her cheeks were stained pink beautifully now.

"Patrick...I want you to be...I want to...I want my first time to be with you."

**Is it awful? I'm sorry, I'm really not a storyteller but please let me know your thoughts and if you would like me to continue, I have a lot of ideas. Thankyou so much for taking the time to read. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys, thank you so much for all the kind reviews and followers. I was not expecting such positive and friendly feedback. And thank you to **_**idonthaveaname**_** and **_**Kay**_** (I went back and changed the colour of his eyes – thank you for the tip (: )**

Immediately, Patrick, who was still hovering over the top of her, had his arms nearly give way and fall on her. The long silence that followed went unnoticed by the pair, too immersed in searching each others expressions. Patrick stared down at Angela and for once, Mr Cocky was at a complete loss for words. He wasn't sure if he heard her correctly. His heart beat was in his ears and her eyes were giving away no secrets.

Patrick ran through her sentence a thousand times in his head, all coming to the same impossible conclusion. She was watching him carefully with curious and expectant eyes. Not very often was the boy wonder startled or caught off guard by anything but this woman was full of constant and unexpected surprises. He would have given anything to be able to read what was going through her head right now. Why did she have to be the exception to his talent?

"That's...I mean...we...that's..." he stumbled over his own words, sounding very un-Patrick like and Angela chuckled at him. "What?" he said confused and dazed.

"I want my first time having sex to be with you," she said very seriously and casually as if she were telling him what she wanted her first car to be.

He didn't understand her request and where this had come from. He had no clue what he had done or said to make her consider this. She had a completely assured look on her face and he could tell that this was something she had considered and decided upon. Whatever it was that put this crazy idea in her head, she clearly was not thinking straight.

"Angela...that's...not a good idea," he said slowly and carefully, not taking his eyes off her. A little frown and crease between her eyebrows appeared.

"Why?" she asked. He rolled over on to his side not believing this conversation – Angela Ruskin, his best friend, wanting to have sex with him – was actually taking place not in his wildest dreams.

"I always thought that was supposed to be a big deal for you," Patrick said. "I thought you wanted to be in love and, you know, all that special, traditional stuff."

"Patrick," she sighed staring at the ceiling of his room. "I'm nearly eighteen and in this day of age, the Pope will be calling me up for tips on celibacy any day now. Being a virgin is just not the done thing."

He felt his chest deflate a little. The motivation behind this crazy idea wasn't love or passion towards him or anything like that. It was her uncanny ability to seek out what she thought was wrong with her.

"Angel," he said propping himself up on his elbow, looking uncharacteristically serious. "Honey, you aren't strange or weird...in that regard," he added with a smirk. "You know there is nothing wrong about...what you are. You're not weird. It's incredible…it's…"

"Exactly," she exclaimed dramatically throwing her arms up. "It's _what I am_. I don't know why people find it so _defining_. I don't want it to _define_ me. Sex isn't a big deal. I don't know why people take it so seriously. It isn't a big deal really is it?"

_Good one idiot, _he thought. She trusted him so much…with everything. She was younger, so inexperienced and sweetly naïve that of course she would have looked to his example of how she could handle things that she did not know of. Sex did mean nothing to him and the partners he engaged with in it felt the same way. It was a way to get off and it took his mind off all the shit of the carnival. But he didn't want that for her.

"It's different with me, Ange. That's not a good enough reason to for you to just..." he started, not being able to believe he was lecturing her on purity and morals let alone having this conversation.

"It's not just that," she sighed sadly. "Nobody wants to be in a relationship with a virgin. They'll think it's weird and He'll be terrible because I haven't the faintest clue what I'm doing.

I don't care about that romantic-y stuff much anymore but of course I don't want to end up doing it with someone who means nothing to me. You've been my best friend for practically my whole life and He'll always care about you and I'm sure our lives will always be connected in one way or another. I've thought about it for a while and then….I was so happy and smiling this morning, because I saw you and I...I knew you won't wind up hurting me," she said matter-of-factly. She was pouting slightly from her predicament and he leant over.

"I've been with a lot of girls though -" he began, brushing his thumb over her lips.

"I know but that means you're experienced, you'll know what to do and how to do it. Plus, I know you don't think sex is a big deal at all and you don't, you know, get attached or feel anything for them so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable afterwards," Angela interrupted him and he started to intercept but Angela cut him off.

"We love each other...even if it's only a platonic love, we still love one another. That's enough for me." Well so much for the falling out of love with Angela plan. There would be no going back to him if he agreed to this. Being that intimate and close with the only girl he has ever truly loved only to know she's out of his reach would fuck him up. He couldn't even tell her that.

"But of course, that's just what I was thinking. It's really up to you," she said going red again and turning her head away from him. "I understand if you really don't want to. I know I'm your best friend and you don't think I'm beautiful or _desirable_ or anything, but would it really be so difficult?"

No, it wouldn't be difficult. The true difficulty was restraining himself from taking her right now. Luckily his love for her overpowered his lust. That and the horrified feeling he got when he heard she didn't think he found her beautiful or as desirable as his other sexual partners. Of course, she had no physical or psychological similarities to them. If only she realised why this was, it would make things so much easier.

"You think I don't think you're beautiful?" he questioned. He still found it hard to believe that someone as bright and intellectual as her could be so obtuse at times. He could barely forgive her for not being able to see the blindingly obvious love he had for her (even though she could, she never read people's emotions or thoughts) but to think that she couldn't even see her own beauty and perfection was outrageous.

"Well, you just see me as your friend and the girl you grew up with..."

"I still think you're beautiful though," he admitted defensively. He was still a teenage male for goodness sake.

"You don't have to say that just because we're going to sleep together. Possibly."

_We're going to sleep together. _Patrick's heart started to race. She knew he was going to lose his internal battle. He knew it as well. He knew he had lost when his heart overtook his brain and told him everything she said was making sense, it was completely logical and he would never hurt her. Nobody could possibly love her as much as he could. Besides, this was about Angela. She wanted this, as did he but for different reasons, but he could never deny her what she wanted.

"I've always thought that, Evangeline," he said sternly to her comment. "Do you…do you really _want_ to? Not because of what people think of you or because you think there is something wrong with you. Do you really _want_ this? You can't take something like this back."

"Yes, Patrick. I wouldn't want anyone else to have this part of me. I trust you."

They were gazing at each other now and Patrick was getting lost in her blue depths not caring about the repercussions of what he was going to tell her. It was the perfect time.

He touched her face softly. "Angela, I - "

"What the bloody hell is taking you so goddamn long, Paddy?!" his Dad yelled banging on the door making them both jump, lost in each other's thoughts. "Everyone's waiting on yer. They're pestering me and I wanna go to the poker game."

Angela waits outside for him as he changes his shirt. His mind is spinning, and his hand is shaking so much he can barely do up the buttons.

They walk down to the table, were about twelve or so carnie's are seated. The original ones as most of the drifters tend to keep to themselves. The Jane's used to be like that, never staying in one place for long or making ties with anyone. It was easier and safer that way. Until a pretty young lady stole Patrick's attentions and this carnival became his family and he did the best at his shows then he ever had to keep his Dad from leaving. Sam was fussing around with the food and she places several large dishes in the centre of the table, before taking her own seat next to Pete.

Patrick found a spare plastic chair between Pete and Jack while Angela sat between her brother and her father who was sitting at the head of the table. Jonathan Ruskin, like all Ruskin's before him, was the King of this carnival. And Angela was the Princess.

"Evangeline, Patrick," Jonathan greeted them. Patrick knew Jonathan liked him. He was talented, he brought crowds in and he was a good kid. Patrick was secretly thankful that Jonathan stuck to the heavy metal and not the psychic business as the only reason he let Angela around the boy was because he thought Patrick had only platonic feelings for her.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that…" Patrick heard Angela murmer.

She was better at this pretending-everything's-okay stuff than he was, because all he could think about was Angela and himself rolling around in his sheets naked. Her milky thighs, her soft pink lips...

"You know nothing of the time and arguments that went into choosing both your names so I intend to use them," Jonathan said to his children. Angela and Danny both rolled their eyes.

"How was your day, honey?" Sam asked Patrick. He jumps startled. "F-fine," he said strangled.  
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.  
"G-great, fine, good," he said and got a dozen strange looks from people.

Angela is light-heartedly arguing with Clinton, the dwarf, about religion and Jack was attempting a conversation with Patrick that was going nowhere as he was distracted.

The conversation continued in this painful manner for the remainder of the evening. Angela pretending to be all sweet and innocent and like she wasn't seducing him subconsciously. Not that he minded being seduced by Angela Ruskin, he just kept thinking about how much it would fuck him up, being so close to Angela. It would mean something entirely different to him than it would to her. But he doesn't have the strength to say no. Even though it is essentially putting himself through unnecessary hell, even though Angela may never feel that way about him, he would get to hold her close and be connected to her in a way no one else has ever been before. She would be able to easily move on with whatever lucky bastard that stole her heart.

He knows for all the things he's thinking about the bad possibilities, he will find some retort because he's selfish and wants to be close to her. He'll give himself some reasoning to convince himself it's the right thing to do. Maybe it would be the right thing to do under different circumstances, say if it really were nothing more than something of friendship. Maybe deep down he wants her to know that he's in love with her.

The sky opens up and it starts to drizzle. They scatter around, clearing the table and putting away the chairs. Angela whispers something in her father's ear. Jonathan looks hesitant but he looks at his daughter and nods. "Not too late, okay?" he says sternly. "I won't be. Thank you Daddy," she says hugging him before she runs off to Patrick.

He smiles down at her and takes her hand. They run together because it's starting to rain harder and they are laughing when they stumble into his trailer. The floor is slippery and her Converses are not holding up well. Not to mention she caused enough havoc on the driest and flattest of surfaces. She shrieks when he picks her up bridal style and carries her to his room. Patrick places her on the end of his bed.

She's quiet and thoughtful as she stared around his room and then finally lies back on his bed. He lay beside her, not touching her and then finally she speaks.

"Please, Patrick?"

"Okay," he said. "Alright."

"Well, so, um..now or..?" she said her fingers curling over the buttons of her blouse.

"You mean...now?" he gulped.

"You don't want to?"

"Not now, Angela. This isn't special," he said. Of course, he wanted it to be completely perfect for her. He wanted candles and clichéd romance and no parents nearby and not just randomly.

"When?" She presses. He thought about it for a while and then the perfect time crossed his mind.

"Um...how about...after your birthday...we can get a hotel room afterward?" he offered.

"I like the sound of that, not as clichéd as after prom," Angela smiles and he can tell she's trying to make a joke, but it doesn't work. She turns around to face him and he knew he couldn't look away so he looked into her swimming blue eyes and she makes no move to look away. The breeze from his open window ruffled her dark, wet hair and to an outsider, he was sure they looked like lovers. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable," Angela whispered as she twisted a few strands of her hair around her finger.

"It's fine," he murmured. "We're still Angela and Patrick and nothing has to change about that."

"Yeah."

"Hey, why'd you and Rory break up?"

"Oh, he was just a loser," she sighed.

There was more of a story to it but he didn't want to push her.

"I should take you home," he said. Her eyes are disappointed but she sits up anyway. He was disappointed to let her go as well. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself?" she asked. He chuckled to himself darkly. "It's better when Dad doesn't come home. Trust me."  
She looks sad and concerned as she touches his face but he takes he hand and walks her outside. It's still drizzling with rain and Angela jokes about the leotard Jack had to wear a few weeks ago and they are laughing and chatting all the way to her door.

He pulled her into a hug, the rain falling down around them. She secures her arm around his waist reluctant to leave and he whispered that everything will be okay. Patrick notices a small strip of light as Angela's father peers out the window and so Angela pulls away from him.

"Goodbye, thank you," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." And then she's out of his hands and heads inside. He stands in the rain until he sees her appear at her bedroom window, smiling and waving at him before she closes her curtains and her lights go out.

Patrick puts his hands in his pockets and whistles to himself as he walks off, on a massive high.  
"Oi!" Jack shouted at Patrick running out from his trailer. "What the bloody hell has gotten into you, Pat? You were a right blibbering mess at dinner."

"It's fine. Hey, is Sam home?"

"Yes she's in -" Patrick doesn't stay to hear the rest but claps Jack on the arm and bounds up to Sam and Pete's trailer and bang impatiently on the door.

"Sam!"

Sam opens her door, wearing her colourful afghan across her shoulders, looking thoroughly confused. "Whatcha doing here at this hour, boy? Get yourself out of this rain, willya?" He happily strolls in and plonks himself down at one of the chairs in their tiny dining room/kitchenette.

"Sam, I need your help," he said.

"What is it?"

"Angela," he said and to his surprise, Sam sighs like that explains it all and takes a seat beside him.

Sam knew about Patrick's internal battle with Angela – ever since she called him out on it at the start of the year. Apparently, despite his best efforts, sometimes he didn't look at Angela in the way a best friend would. Patrick always feared other people would pick up on it but Sam assured him they wouldn't. It was just another one of her womanly tricks. How Angela felt about him was unfortunately as much a mystery to Sam as it is to Patrick. "Angela is guarded with her emotions, very hard to read," Sam always said.

"What's going on?" Sam asked. "Have you finally given up your promiscuous ways?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Well you know how I've been trying to just, forget her...as more than a friend?"

"Stupid idea, but yes?"

"Well... today she asked me to...god, I can't tell you this," he complained.

"I've heard it all kiddo. And I've known Angie since she was a little bump in her momma's tummy," she reminds him. "I promise not to be grossed out."

"She wants to lose her virginity...to me," he choked out and then explained what happened that day and how this could possibly end painlessly hoping that Sam could shed some light on Angela's thoughts as a woman. She and Angela were very close, like a favourite Aunt and niece but she knew how touchy he was about Angela. Sam sat and took in everything he told her. Patrick could see her face contort into different expressions, as if she was calculating the answer in her head.

"Well you're certainly in a dilemma aren't you, boy," Sam teased him. "What to do...hmm?"

"Come Sam," he whinged. "I'm frustrated enough without you having a go too."

"Fine. It's quite simple, really."

"How is anything about this simple?" he questioned wildly wishing he had just kept his mouth shut instead of venting. Okay maybe that wasn't true, Sam usually did have good ideas and advice. "Women," he muttered and Sam chuckled at the teenager.

"You get Angie to fall in love with you beforehand. Simple."

"If it were that simple, don't you think I would've done that already?"

"Well, you haven't exactly tried. You're too busy whoring yourself out and Angela is usually always being chased by someone else but seeing as she's not with Rory anymore...it won't be long before it's another one…"

"Sam, I can't make her fall in love with me," he interrupted. It sounded ridiculous as he could charm anyone. His made his father's living by charming people out of ridiculous amounts of money. Not to mention the affect it had on all females. With one exception.

"Sure you can. Besides, maybe I can get her to just admit she already loves you," Sam said slyly.

"But she doesn't already love me. You said you couldn't tell and I quite doubt she does anyway. She's always going on about how we're best friends and how she _cares about me and loves me platonically _and all that crap," he complained. "Why would she ever want me in that way?"

Sam got up, smiling to herself and made them both tea.

"She is probably just trying to cling to you in a way she knows is safe. If she does feel something else for you, she's probably scared of ruining your friendship, just like you are. Remember, Angie has been through nightmares and lost a lot in her life. I think maybe you should just take a risk with her, otherwise you're going to spend your whole life wondering what could've been. Angie's not as forward as you are. If one of you is going to admit to your feelings, you're the one who is more likely to do that. Angie's got a whole world of walls around that heart of hers."

He processed this as she placed a steaming mug in front of him.

"What if she doesn't feel the same way?" he asked quietly fiddling with the handle of his cup of tea.

"She asked you to have sex with her, Patrick. I'm sure she feels something, whether she realises it or not," Sam pointed out. "If she...umm...enjoys your sexual relations, then that will add a physical component to your relationship so it can't keep being platonic."

"What about the whole...virginity thing? What do I do?" he said nervously. Patrick had never 'been' with a virgin before.

"Well, I think you should tell her how you feel before you do it. That's just my opinion," Sam advised. "And as for the technical part…you need to listen to her and be gentle. She will tell you if something's wrong. Angela's always been the first one to call you out if you've done something wrong," she smirked and he smiled to himself.

"Get to bed you," she said clearing up his cup. "You've got your performances tomorrow, remember? What's the use of those dreamy eyes on the crowd if you're falling asleep on stage?"  
He thanks her and leaves for his 'home' as such. He collapses onto his bed so he could think by himself. His dad was not home yet; he hadn't heard the drunken stumbling and smell of booze and gambling debt on him. Patrick made sure to shut his door hoping it would deter his father from trying to have a go at him when he came home. He was too mentally exhausted for a fight tonight. He pulls his shirt off and his pillows smell like Angela – the natural cocoa butter soapy smell of her skin, a hint of cotton candy and kettle corn and her shampoo. It puts him to ease and rest within moments, taking him to his happy place. He was way in over his head.

Patrick dreamt of Angela for most of the night, but none of it made any sense. She just floated in and out of his mind and his aimless dreams, like she was untouchable and he could never catch her.

The next day, he woke up with his heart jumping and butterflies in his stomach. Patrick was confused for the first few seconds wondering what excited him or worried him enough until he remembered he was seeing Angela this morning and the memories of the previous evening came flooding back.

He picked up Angela as usual and she was positively beaming when she got into his car. If he didn't know her better, he would say it was some kind of post-coital glow. She wound the window down and smiled into the sun and the breeze then turned to smile at him, the sun setting off her skin and glinting off her sunglasses. How could he ever make someone as beautiful as her, fall in love with him?

Angela was clearly selling tokens for one of the rides today as she was in the Ruskin customary uniform of a stupid (in her opinion) pink and white vertical striped shirt and white bowtie. She looked like a candy-themed swing dancer but this hadn't dampened her mood…yet.

"Angela?" he murmured, breaking her out of her daze. It was as if she didn't remember her request last night. She was acting so _normal_!

"Mhm?"

"I was thinking about last night...and just if you're sure then I wanted to know where you want to stay for the night?" he asked.

"It doesn't bother me," she said, turning towards the sun again. "What about my surprise party?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The 'surprise party' everyone's been planning for me since I was eleven?"

He smiled as he turned the steering wheel. She may be in the heavy metal industry, but she was damn perceptive. Well….about the wrong things.

"Do you still want to go with me? It's only a few weeks away and I guess I could ask Jack to take me but it's obvious he doesn't 'swing my way' but he'd do it to be nice and I don't want you to feel inclined to take me just because you've agreed to sle-"

"Of course I want to go with you still," he intercepted.

"Good. Just checking."

"And you still want the post-birthday...erm...festivities?" he asked nervously trying to make sure their conversation hadn't been some cruel dream.

"Yes."

"Good. Just checking," he said using her previous words.

"I guess we've got a lot to look forward to, then," Angela teased as she hopped out of his car before he could get her door and ran towards her stint at the merry-go-round, not bothering to wait for him.

Patrick smiled after her and slammed his door.  
"What're you all happy about?" Young Danny Ruskin asked him.  
"Nothing, kiddo," Patrick said ruffling the young teen's hair. Danny would have poured bleach in his ears if Patrick told him the truth.

"Hey, are you busy tonight?" Danny asked enthusiastically. "Dad's gon' take me out proper camping tonight he said. Real man camping. You could come."

"Oh, is your sister going?" Patrick asked.

Danny looked at his exasperatedly. "Is Angie a man?"

"Certainly not."

"There's your answer, boy wonder. I think she was going to see if Eleanor could sleep over….or she might stay with Pete and Sam."

"Oh, really?" he said thoughtfully making a mental note to visit all three of these people.

"Well…?"

"Sorry, Dan. I'm afraid I do have plans for tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry, I've taken so long to update. I've put in two long chapters to apologise. Not too many lemons yet, I'm afraid but there will be many coming up. Please not these chapters are unedited so I apologise for any mistakes. Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed my story. There needs to be more Angelick fanfictions out there so I'm ecstatic there are fellow supporters. Enjoy. Please feel free to leave comments, suggestions and criticism. **

Patrick's first two performances moved along quickly because all he could think about was Angela and imagining all the different ways in which he could love her and tell her he loved her and make love to her and all the ways he could make her feel and make himself feel and it's was all so overwhelming that his father had to snap him out of his self-induced state of crazy with a whack across the head every time he stumbled over his words during his performance. He always had to duck his father's arm if he phased out during a reading or got distracted.

Currently, he was sitting down with a blindfold on while his father collected objects from the crowd for him to guess. It was getting increasingly boring and he tried to find some challenge in it to keep his captivated but his mind kept wandering dangerously back to her.

"What's it made of, son?" Alex Jane asked loudly though Patrick nearly missed what he said. "What kind of cigarette case, Patrick?"

He would go find her this afternoon after his shows where he would 'set up the play' as his father would say. She would be walking across the fairground with her face buried in a book, blindly but perfectly navigating her way around the placement of rides and stalls she'd remembered since she was able to walk, blissfully unaware of the double-take glances young men would give her as she went. Patrick would line himself up, put his hands in his pockets and walk staring at the ground and 'accidentally' walk directly into her, sending the contents of her hands sprawling to the grass below. He would apologise and bend down to pick up her belongings while she as usual would blush and apologise and blame herself for being clumsy and try to help him. Then of course she would ask…

"What would you say? What's it made of?"

He had to recover himself from the dazed smile on his face. "Sterling silver."

Honestly, if something didn't distract him soon he would slip into an unrecoverable Angela coma. He thought up a reckless, brilliant idea. "The cigarette case?" he interrupted putting his arm out. "It once belonged to someone very, very close to you..."

His plan was delayed slightly when he caught glance of himself in the mirror behind the stage on his way out. The shirt and shorts were his father's stipulation, an attempt to make him look as young as possible as he aged quicker than his father could find a new angle for the show other than 'boy wonder'. Usually, he didn't mind the quirky outfit but he suddenly didn't want to look like a boy in front of Angela. Their relationship had changed and he wanted to look every day of his nineteen years for her.

Quickly he ran back to the camper, and tore about his small bedroom in search for anything. Trying to find the happy medium between too obviously formal and thirteen year old boy scout was quickly narrowed down to something that didn't require washing but he managed to rummage out his only pair of jeans and a retro striped t-shirt he found at a second hand store. It wasn't perfect but it would do.

Unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough and his father caught up with him as he was trying to leave.  
"What the hell was that? _Your grandmother loves you very much_?"  
"But did you see her face? It was beautiful."  
"No, it was a needless risk," Alex interjected.  
"An heirloom she carries with her, that's a recent death and she's too young for dead parents so a grandparent…"

Even though Patrick was a little proud at how flawless the play had played off, his father did not show the appreciation. They hadn't earned extra money from it and it could've gone wrong. Trying to reason with him proved as fruitless as it usually did.

Patrick hauled the large laundry bag that his father had given him over his shoulder. He was excited about this private reading his father had set up. He hoped he finally would be able to prove that he could do more than childish tricks.

All thoughts of the private reading and all the tactics he might have to use to pull it off were wiped without a trace in his mind when his eyes caught a glimmer of dark hair in the sunlight. He automatically dropped the laundry bag on the ground and his feet led him forward like a magnet to her. As predictable as a movie scene on repeat, she was immersed in a book, balancing a stack of papers underneath it while navigating her way through the stalls and crowds with gentle clumsy elegance that set her apart from everyone else.

Pretending he didn't see her (although in his opinion, no man could not possibly not notice her) was a well-rehearsed dance that they had done many a time before. She was buried deep in her own world that she was taken off guard when he gently bumped into her shoulder. He automatically and expertly leaned down to catch her delicate waist before she fell to the ground and her book and the papers went tumbling to the ground.

"Oh," she gasped startled as he gently propped her upright. "Patrick."  
"I'm sorry Angela," he apologised forgetting to take his hands off her waist. "Are you okay?" he asked as if there was any slight chance he would allow her to be harmed in any way.  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she waved him off and lowered to her knees to gather her belongings. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."  
"No, let me," he said helping her. "It was my fault."  
"Yes it was but I was trying to be nice," she said. "Are we ever going to stop colliding, you and I?"  
"I certainly hope not," he smiled his dazzling smile that usually made women go weak at the knees that she instead returned with one of her own that caught him off guard. He wasn't used to being disarmed by smiles that rendered the most confident of men speechless.  
"Well, it's dangerous, I'm going to seriously injure you one day" she chucked. "Why is it always you? You're like a magnet."  
Patrick shrugged. "I guess I'm attracted to you."

Angela laughed quietly as if he had said something funny as they gathered the last of the remaining papers. He handed her the pile and offered her his hand but she was already on her feet. "How was your show?" she asked. "Good turnout, I guess. Had a lot of sucke..,urh, people come. I tried something a little different today. It's going to take the show to a whole new level."  
"Oh, I have been waiting for the day you got a turban!" she clapped her hands together. "Are you doing tarot cards now?"  
He rolled her eyes and tugged softly on her plait.

They were suddenly interrupted by Pete tripping over Patrick's laundry bag and swearing loudly. "BOY!"  
Patrick grabbed Angela's hand and took off running as Pete attempted to chase them.

They were both laughing as Patrick led them behind the ring toss stall and nearly smacked into Aaron and Leslie who were making out. He honestly did not know a more fucked up pair than them. They usually made him feel better about his own issues with his morale.

Despite their previous physical encounters, he never really liked Leslie, obviously the cougar had moved on to another teenager the next day. Aaron was a creep at the best of times. He had been getting on Patricks nerves a lot lately anyway, and knowing that he was giving Angela crap over her virginity, or his belief it was now gone, was the final straw.

Leslie looked at Patrick and then Angela and then her gaze dropped down at their hands joined together. Her eyes narrowed and she sneered maliciously at the teenage girl.  
"Come on, Angela," he murmured to her and whisking her away before Leslie could say something. He heard Leslie push Aaron away and storm off behind him.

Patrick knew that Angela was curious about the awkward situation. She was very perceptive but didn't question him. Another mystery about this girl – woman – that he hoped to uncover.  
"You look different," she commented.  
"What?"  
"New shirt," she gestured.  
"Oh! Yeah," he smiled waiting for some sort of teasing. "In a way, I suppose."  
"It's nice," she smiled at him. "To see you out of 'character'."

He smiled like an idiot.  
"How long do you have?"  
"A little while," she smiled sadly. "Dad wants me to practise the piano with him before he leaves."

They wandered over to Jack and Leonie who had apparently congregated to enjoy their last few moments of their break. Angela sat next to Patrick and got out a tattered yellowing paperback book.

Aaron had arrived to Patrick's dismay and Leonie was stretching out and pushing her chest up into his face but he was not paying any attention to her because he was glaring at Angela, who was sitting beside Patrick, legs tucked underneath her, engrossed in _Jane Eyre. _Patrick knew this shit because she read that damn Shakespearey crap all the time. Maybe he should read it to see what she liked so much. On second thoughts, no.

Angela looked up from her book then into his eyes and addressed him. "Hey, Patrick?"

"Mhm?" he said.

"Do you want to come over tonight? Dad and Danny are going out," she asked. He inflated like a hot air balloon. Unfortunately, Eleanor and Sam had sudden plans come up. Completely innocent and coincidental…

"Yeah," he whispered, so his voice wouldn't betray him. Truthfully, the thought of being alone with Angela intimidated him slightly. A feeling he had never experienced before in his life. He wasn't supposed to be this nervous, intimidated, flustered person. The woman was too mesmerising for her own good. And his.

"You don't have to, if you and your Dad have…"  
"No, no," he said. "I'd love to."

"Okay. We can organise some things for my birthday," she whispered in his ear and he was not able to tell exactly which activity of the night she was referring to but it made his stomach erupt into thousands of butterflies. He thought she was having a little too much fun with all this and it kind of hurt him. He knew she had no idea he was in love with her so she really wasn't to blame.

"I'll see you later," Angela smiled at him and standing up. "Hopefully with a little less impact."  
"I can't make any promises," he smiled back trying to ignore Jack rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Hey Jane," Aaron said, ignoring Leonie and standing up once Angela had left. "Can I talk to you?"  
"Ur, sure," Patrick said perplexed following him. It was probably about Leslie. Some sort of stay-away-from-my-girlfriend talk. There certain wasn't going to be a problem with that.

"What's up?" Patrick asked, putting his hands in his pockets.  
"I just want to discuss Ruskin," Aaron said leaning against a trailer casually. Patrick stood in front of him looking confused and suspicious. Did he know how he felt about her? It had come to light that Pete, Sam, Jack – hell, even Jonathan Ruskin probably suspected. But an obtuse sloth like Aaron?

"What about her?"

"Well you know, Leonie just isn't the right girl for me anymore. Neither's Leslie," Aaron said casually. Fuck he hated this guy even more than normal at the moment, if possible. Anger rose up in his chest. He tried to keep his voice level to keep himself from yelling.

"So what? You _want_...Angela?" his voice cracked.

"No. I just want to fuck her," Aaron admitted crudely, then cackled. Patrick closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists trying to swallow the pent up rage. Aaron was not touching _his_ Angela.

"You won't lay a hand on her," he told him calmly.

"I'll do what I want," Aaron sneered and got defensive. "What's it to you anyway? She gave it up for that card trick guy, so obviously she doesn't care for you. And last I checked, you were busy fucking half the female population of the carnival anyway. You want the same thing, you practically drool over her. Well I bet you, I can bed her first and there's nothing you can do about it."

"First off child," Patrick stepped towards him. "Never compare my feelings for Angela for your disgusting perverted thoughts. Second, she wouldn't give you a second glance you twat. Thirdly, she already hates you. Don't ever speak about her like that again."

"What makes me any different than you?" Aaron smiled menacingly. "You're a carnie freak that tricks and steals and cheats for a living. What could you possibly offer her?" He chuckled and walked away.

It's ridiculous, really, Patrick thought as he stormed back to retrieve his laundry bag off the floor. Angela'd never want him, would she? Surely not. He was right about one thing – neither of them deserved her.

He fidgeted and growled and slammed his bag down on the stump next to the water bucket Sam was using. Sam rolled her eyes at him. "What's wrong now, honey?"  
She asked him what was wrong several times but he told her it didn't matter. He wasn't worried that Angela wanted Aaron; he was just worried about how far Aaron would actually go to get what he wants. He was a determined creepy mother fucker.

"Where've you been, Paddy?" his father bellowed when Patrick got back. "I sent you off an hour ago!"  
"Out," Patrick replied. This past year especially, Patrick had gotten cockier, defiant and more reckless. Alex felt like he had little control over him now.  
"Watch your tone, boy," he warned. "You need to keep your head down and focus on the show. I've got some, urh, errands to run. You need to practise tonight."  
"Actually, I can't," Patrick said. "I've got…"  
"What? What?" Alex stepped toward him. "What have you got to do that's more important, boy?"  
"I'm going to go see Angela," he said.  
"…..which one's that?" his dad snapped.  
"Evangeline Ruskin."  
"Ruskin?" Alex said thoughtfully. "Wait, that's Jonathan Ruskin's kid you're friends with, right?"  
"Yes."  
His dad looked at him for a few moments and Patrick knew by the look on his face that there was a plan in motion behind his head.  
"Okay Paddy," he smiled unconvincingly clapping him on the shoulder. "You're at that age now, I get it. Just make sure you concentrate on the big score tomorrow okay, my boy?"

Patrick didn't know what his father was up to. Nothing was more important than the show. No distractions. That was the rule. And '_at that age'_? Older women had been taking advantage of his sexuality since he was fourteen. The inappropriate touching, caressing, kissing was so uncomfortable but his dad made him deal with it…it was part of the performance and it made money. Now he just let women do it for free. It was a pretty simple coping mechanism: if it was meaningless, it didn't matter. Except for one future exception…


	4. Chapter 4

**Quite tame kissing in this chapter, just to try and get into the swing of things. **

"So I've got one definite crease on my wrist and the line that Jack said was my life line is really short," Angela frowned tracing her palm with her finger. They had finished the pizza muffins and chocolate milk they had made and now they were lying on Angela's bed in her small room. "So I'm going to have one child and die pretty early. That's morbid."  
"That's not actually true, Angel," Patrick teased. "Palm-reading."  
"Says Mr Psychic," Angela teased back. "You might have to resort to it. You can't be boy wonder when you're twenty. Or we could practise reading tea-leaves. The boys left all their cups for me to wash as usual. Though I'd much rather you do something honest…"

"I have thought about it," Patrick said. "About what I'm going to do. I'm pretty good at…connecting with ghosts."  
"Ghosts?" Angela said sceptically, propping herself up.  
"Not _real_ ghosts," Patrick emphasised. "Not even really ghosts. More or less, I'm pretty good at reading people who've lost loves ones and…telling them what they want to hear."  
Angela was quiet for a long time. "That doesn't sound like a very good idea, Patrick."  
"No, it's not bad, Angie," he turned to look at her. "I tried it today. You should've seen her face. She was so…at peace. Happy."  
Angela bit her lip and looked at her ceiling.  
"Stop worrying," he said and she turned to him with a fair amount of trust in her eyes. Then she went to have her shower and he was alone in her room. He had been in there many times before but this was the first time he looked at it without his eyes otherwise distracted by a certain seventeen year old.

It was a bigger than his own room but her bed was smaller and covered in a colourful patchwork quilt that Sam and the other ladies had sewn her for her sixteenth birthday to brighten up her room. Jonathan had twined pretty fairy lights around her bed and curtains at some point making the room glow. It wasn't Angela's taste but Patrick assumed she had kept them up to indulge her father. The clutter on the floor, however was definitely all Angela. Overflowing books placed in precarious towers, maps of the world, photographs old and new and the clutter of scribble composition papers over her keyboard on the desk made the relatively neat room look more like a teenager lived in there. She would play for him sometimes on her keyboard and he loved the sound. Her father was teaching her how to play piano and write her own music. There were a lot of photos on her wall. A few family pictures, Jack and Angela dressing up in lipstick and high heels when they were five and then the both of them when they were fifteen, Pete and Sam at their wedding and some of Patrick and herself.

Before he could look more closely at them, she came back in drying her long wet hair with a towel.  
"Whoa," he gasped at her.  
"What?"  
Her petite upper body was hidden by a white mens business shirt with the buttons done all the way up and it came down three inches above her knee, barely appropriating the acceptable amount of material required for a nightgown.  
"I..urh..um."  
"I'm not going to seduce you in nothing but a formal shirt, Patrick," Angela told him. "I have more originality than that."  
"Is…is that mine?"  
"Oh, it is," she turned pink. "You left it here and it's pretty much the only thing that fits me now."  
If this outfit was the most decent, fitting night garment she could find he would've hated to see what her actual ones looked like on her. No, actually. He would've _loved_ to see what they looked like on her.  
"I hope you don't mind… I could probably find something of Dad's that fit's me…"  
"No, I..no," Patrick managed to get out. "It, urh, looks better on you anyway." Fantasising about her on his lonelier nights would be a lot easier now his fantasies were becoming realities.

She smiled at him and threw her towel over her desk chair letting her damp soft curls hang loose at her waist. She took out a cassette tape from the desk drawer and put it into her radio. Patrick was used to this. Angela loved music. She had several cassettes that Jack usually updated for her with music that was to her taste or tapes they found at second hand stores when they managed a trip into the local town of whatever place they were set up.

Angela lay back down next to him and he could smell her intoxicating soap and shampoo.  
"I talk to my mother," she said quietly. "Is that strange?"  
"No," Patrick said softly. She never spoke about her mother. "That's not strange."  
"So I guess I don't need to be institutionalised until she starts talking back," Angela joked and Patrick's heart broke a little for her. "What do you talk to her about?"  
"All sorts of things. Dad and Danny, my dreams, what I'm afraid of…and you," she smiled ruffling his hair. "I really wish she knew about you."  
"I don't know, depends on what you've told her about me," Patrick smiled. "The title of irresponsible best friend that's going to deflower her only daughter probably wouldn't win me too many points."

She burst into sweet laughter, throwing her arms behind her hand making her shirt ride dangerously up her thigh.

"Patrick," she said a little more seriously. "I've been thinking about that. What we planned to do."  
"Yeah?"  
"I'm not sure anymore whether it's the right thing to do."  
He felt his heart in his throat. "Why did you think that?"  
"I don't want you to think it means something it doesn't."  
Here it comes, he thought. She was about to tell him not to fall in love with her or think that them sleeping together meant that there was not any romantic attachment whatsoever.  
She continued while he prepared his heart for the next blow.

"I mean, I didn't explain it very well. I guess you think now I want to use you because I want to have sex but it's not that exactly…"  
"_'Use'_ is a harsh word, Angel," Patrick said, glad the conversation had turned into something other then what he originally thought. "I know that's not your intention but I don't mind. You told me why you don't want to be a virgin anymore. I guess I'm your only choice if you seriously don't want to keep it for much longer."  
"No," Angela sighed looking away from him. "I wasn't…completely honest or explanatory with that. Of course, I _want _to have sex like any other teenager but my virginity isn't….a priority or a deadline. It really didn't have much to do with the being a virgin. It was mainly with who I…it's too embarrassing."  
"You can't start and then not tell me," Patrick smiled and poked her but she didn't move. He hit her with a pillow and she looked positively offended. "You deserved that."  
She wacked him back and it continued until one of them tore and white feathers whooshed across the room propelled by the pedestal fan that was on due to the heat. They both collapsed into laughter at the ginormous mess they'd made. Her favourite song started playing on her cassette tape. It was 'Asleep' by The Smiths. Patrick knew it well.  
"Tell me," he whinged.  
"Urgh, fine I just…" she groaned and buried her face into a surviving pillow so her voice was only just audible but very fast. "I don't know much about sex or what it is like the first time. I would die of embarrassment if I asked Dad. The only people that have told me about theirs are you, Jack and Sam and it seems all three of you had horrible experiences. So I've tried to understand more from reading my books and unfortunately those are set in the early nineteen hundreds and all the other ones end the same clichéd heart breaking way and I just…I just want this to be one of the few things that will turn out nice and I won't be a regular person who regrets it. I want to be happy and remember it with fondness and not wanting to change anything. Oh, it sounds so ridiculous and girly and stupid when I say it out loud."  
She finally stopped for a breath.

"I don't care that much about being a virgin but I want to enjoy and remember my first time and the only instance I can think of where it would be absolutely perfect is if it was with you. You are my best friend and I absolutely positively love you and I know I always will no matter who we end up being with and marrying and I trust you so much and I know you would never hurt me so I could never regret sleeping with you. I just don't want you to think I'm using you for sex because you're my only option and I just want to get it over with. Honestly, having sex doesn't have all that much appeal to me but having sex with you is different because I know it's the only circumstance where I'll be truly happy and it sounds really selfish, I know. I don't want you to do it unless you want to and I definitely don't want you to resent me afterwards because I'm like all those women that used you so I'd much rather not do this and have you as you are then the other way around."

She stopped talking for a whole minute and Patrick took a while to process all of the information.  
"I didn't know that," he said stunned. He assumed the main reasons that she picked him was because they were friends and he was experienced and she wanted to get it done with quickly. This was more than what he could've hoped and dreamed for. Patrick knew she was talking about platonic love again but it didn't matter. The fact that she didn't want sex, she specifically wanted him was more than his mind could comprehend so he just sat there in stunned silence.

"I just want to know that you're okay with it," Angela said. "I guess I thought it worked out well because like I said the other night, you won't get attached to me or feel any obligation to me afterwards. It's just sex to you."

"No, it isn't," Patrick finally worked up the words to talk to her and rolled her over to her side so he could finally see her face which was pink with embarrassment. It was hard to take him seriously when he had so many feathers lodged in his hair. "Don't ever compare this to what happened to me when I was younger. This is so different and incomparable and…indescribable. This is you. It won't be just sex," he really hoped she didn't pick up on what he really meant by saying that. "I want it to be perfect for you. For the both of us. I just wish I could help make it as perfect as possible."

"Okay...well...," Angela trailed off thoughtfully laying on her back. "Maybe we should just ease into it? So it's not as uncomfortable and awkward."  
Loosening the physical boundaries was definitely an idea he was for. He still couldn't believe he was lying next to Angela Ruskin, the girl of his dreams who wanted to have sex with him and that in a way, she loved him too. It was all too much. Patrick tried to take in all her small details just to confirm he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating.

He touched the tip of a still damp lock of hair, fanned out over her head and it seemed real. Patrick focused on her face…the sparkle in her blue eyes, her soft porcelain skin laced with her blush from the current topic. Angela below him was still ranting on about ways that they could feel more comfortable with each other, trying to ignore the white bits of fluff that kept cascading around her like snow. Patrick honestly thought that she was the closest thing to an angel on the Earth and he had no words for her as he picked bits of fluff and feather from her hair.

"I mean, I don't know about-" Angela babbled on until she was interrupted by Patrick pressing his lips against her own. Her lips were soft and silky and warm and tasted better than he imagined. She got over her initial surprise in a matter of seconds and responded to him in the most delightful of ways, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss. Their lips moved against each others like puzzle pieces and it feels like years and he pushed her deeper in to her pillow.

He gently traced her bottom lip with his tongue and one of his hands stopped softly gripping her hair to slide up her legs and underneath the obtrusive shirt to her delicate waist to pull her small perfect body into the shape of his own, pouring a year of unrequited love into one kiss. The other held her face steady while his thumb stroked across her closed eyelid. The feeling of her body, her lips, her precious heartbeat and the general feel of her underneath him made him softly moan her name into their kisses. He had never been more aware of all his senses.

Patrick was unsure if he had passed out or he had done something wrong to her but he felt her warm body disappear suddenly as she threw him off the bed in a matter of milliseconds.  
He landed on his side of the carpet just in time to hear her greet her father.

"Hi Daddy," she said breathlessly like she had ran a marathon as her father's head appeared around the door. "What are you doing back at this time of night?"  
"Hi sweetie. It was pretty fun until Danny got into some poison ivy. His rash has gotten a little better since we came back and put some cream on it."  
"Oh," she tried to smile or find the oxygen to say something. Patrick stayed between her window and bed trying to recover from a kiss that was more exhilarating then all his sexual encounters put together. Jonathan Ruskin was not a stupid man. He was a young man of thirty four but far from stupid or naïve.

His daughters lips were swollen, her hair messy, she was wearing nothing but a shirt and boyleg short underwear with her blanket tangled around her legs. Not to mention she was concentrating on her breathing. He noticed how sparkly her eyes were and how the hint of a smile was on her swollen lips and couldn't remember how long it had been since she had looked that happy and glowing. Regardless, he seemed to have intervened at just the right time. She was his seventeen year old daughter after all.

"I'm glad you're okay," Jonathan smiled at her. "Goodnight Evangeline."  
"Goodnight Dad."  
"Goodnight Patrick."  
"Bye Jonathan," Patrick said automatically before clapping his hand over his mouth and Jonathan closed her door, chuckling slightly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone for the lovely reviews. I do enjoy reading them so please feel free to become a serial reviewer, haha. I got this chapter written up as soon as I could and included some lemony goodness in this chapter. Writing from a boys point of view in **_**that**_** regard was a little difficult but I've done my best. I also kept the continuity by including all the flashback scenes from **_**Throwing Fire**_**. Thank you again everybody and enjoy. **

"I hope you're ready for today, my boy," Alex said as they sat on top of the out of service Ferris wheel. "This is a big deal."  
"Oh, you know I'm ready," Patrick replied excitedly. Today was the big pay out he father kept going on about. All Patrick had to do was convince some mark that a crystal they had was some sort of valuable Ancient Egyptian heirloom with magic healing powers. It sounded too easy and not enough of a big deal to Patrick but his father's excitement had him interested.

"How did last night go, ey?" his father asked bumping him.  
"What?"  
"How did it go with the girl?"  
Patrick lowered the binoculars. "Fine..."  
_More than fine. It was the best night of my life. So far. _Not that he would tell his father that. They'd never had the kind of father-son relationship where feelings were a topic of discussion.

He wasn't sure why his father cared all that much. He had been with many girls.  
"Just fine?" he prodded. "I know you can do better than that, boy. It'll be good for you son if you can hang on to this one."  
"Okay…" he said uncertainly.  
"Ah there!" his father exclaimed snatching the binoculars off him and looking down at the fairground. He was looking at an expensive sleek black town car parked next to the swing ride. "I spent three days at that crummy hospital. Finding the mark….setting up the play….and now it's time to get paid."  
He handed the binoculars to Patrick. He looked down at where his father was looking. There was an elderly lady helping a young girl into a wheelchair and Patrick got an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

000

"We've tried everything," the old lady told them as they sat in Patrick's psychic tent. "She finished her fourth course of chemo last week but they, ah, tumours in her lungs are growing…"  
"Cool shirt," the sick girl piped up weakly to Patrick who smiled at her.  
"Thank you."  
She tried to smile back but was interrupted by a shocking bout of coughing and gasping for air.  
Her grandmother put an oxygen mask up to the girls mouth and Patrick noticed the rich old lady had a cheap watch on. The tan lines on her fingers indicated that she had sold a lot of her jewellery. Probably chasing after expensive medications and healing voodoo. He got a sinking feeling in his heart when he realised what his father had set up.

"The doctors say there is nothing they can do just…make her comfortable."  
"I know it must be difficult," Alex said sitting next to his perfectly healthy child he cared nothing for.  
"So when I heard about the crystal…" she started.  
"Ah yes!" Alex said dramatically. "The crystal!"

Patrick removed the red velvet cloth from the grand box that held a worthless amethyst that they had several of in their trailer. He showed it to them with the appropriate amount of flourish and grandeur. They had done this play before. Selling magic crystals with various ancient powers across the Midwest. Patrick tried to get rid of his guilt but justifying himself…even if he didn't truly believe it. Lung cancer sufferers that smelt of cigarettes didn't care enough about their health. Old people suffering from nothing but age had already had their day. Greedy people wanting to buy crystals with magical financial powers were no better than himself. They needed the money and it couldn't be that bad to give people hope.

But this one was different.

He picked it up and the old lady looked at it longingly with desperation.  
The young girl, still gasping for breath in her oxygen mask looked at him with big curious eyes with so much innocence and faith and trust.

Patrick put the crystal back into the back. "I'm sorry."  
He quickly left the tent before he could be sick. He heard his dad tell them something as he left.  
Patrick sat down on a bale of hay and put his head in his hands. This was wrong. There was no other way to look at it. She wasn't a mark or a sucker. She was just an innocent girl who had done nothing to deserve this. The grandmother was rich, true, but it didn't seem relevant in this situation like it usually did. She was doing what was necessary for the person she loved most in the world and that meant spending all of her wealth.

Maybe some time ago Patrick would be able to do this with ease without understanding the feelings and the desperation associated with love. If the person he loved most in the world became sick and was going to die he knew he wouldn't accept that or allow it. He would travel to the ends of the world and back, go to every hospital, get every medicine, try and drain every inch of his life to give to her and, yes, he would even buy a stupid rock with supposed healing powers if it were the last thing.

"Get back in there!" his dad said coming out angrily.  
"I can't. I can't do it."  
"Get up now," his dad growled grabbing his arm harshly and pulling him up. Patrick shrugged him off.  
"What part?" Alex asked madly. "What part can't you do?! The gag? That part's easy. I did the hard part…"

His dad continued his angry rant and Patrick got more uncomfortable and upset with him.  
"She's dying! We are stealing from a dying girl!" Surely, his father had a conscience Patrick could reason with.  
"We're all dying kid, we're all dying.." It was nothing more than Patrick expected. His father managed to justify this disgrace and Patrick knew he lost this one.  
"I can't do it."

His father stared at him. "You're either with the show. Or you're not," he recited the carnie code. "You're a loser…or you play the losers. And you cant just back out when you feel like it! When it's morally convenient. When you don't have the guts! I've never backed out! I've been carrying you for a long time and it's not getting any easier, son. No one likes an aging boy psychic. Short pants don't look so good on a boy that needs to shave. You're going to need a new act. Are you gonna…work that out all by yourself? You going solo? Yes or no, boy? Are you with it? Are you with me? Right now? You gotta say! Right now!"

000

Patrick pocketed the $50 note of the $10,000 he had made his father. He felt sick to his stomach at what he had done. What he had to do. Carnival life was binding. You're with it or you're not with it. You have a part to play and you have to play it perfectly, unwavering. If you no longer had a purpose, you no longer had a place in the carnival. You only had immunity from uselessness if you were part of the Ruskin family who started this whole circuit decades ago.

Patrick went back to the trailer which was empty as his father had gone to blow their earnings on poker and booze. He hated himself for what he had done. What he did for a living. He kicked the wall and threw everything off the tiny table before sliding down the wall and gripping his hair.

Aaron was right. He was a no good, worthless carnie who tricked and stole and lied and cheated with a bad reputation and slept around with the worse kind of women.  
His dad had given him a thought to ponder though tonight. He did need a new act. Could he go solo? Could he survive without his father? It seemed difficult but not impossible. If he could, he would run far away from this poisonous life and never come back.

But there was something tying him down here. Something infuriating. Angela Ruskin. How he wanted to hate her for doing this to him. Making him care. Life would be so much easier if he didn't care. He could lie and cheat without guilt, without fear of disappointing, he could run away if he wished with his heart still intact, he could speed down a windy road in a car and ending this nightmare by smashing into a tree without the agony of putting her in pain.

Now he had so much to worry about. All of those things plus he had her to worry about too. What if he did go solo and his act was horrible and he had to leave the carnival and never see her again? She could marry into an equally successful carnival family and move to their circuit. Or so horrific he couldn't comprehend it, she could get a horrible disease like that poor girl and be taken from him while he stood their helpless. _She_ had done this to him. He punched the door before slamming it and storming off across the grass.

000

"Patrick, what are you doing here?" Angela whispered sleepily opening the window as quietly as she could. He slid through the tiny window with her help.

"I needed to see you," he said putting his hands on her fragile shoulders. It was warm in her room and she was wearing nothing but her underwear and a threadbare singlet. The open window let in a cold breeze and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. He removed his jacket and threw it around her shoulders.

"It's freezing out, Angela," he said zipping it up. "You should be wearing more. You could get sick."  
"Yes mum," she joked but his grim expression didn't change. She frowned slightly not wanting his mysterious bad mood to ruin the high she was on.

"I'm glad you came," she said quietly, pushing back the too-long sleeves of his jacket and pulling him away from the window. "I missed you today."  
He ignored her sweet words he sorely wished to return and paced angrily across her room. "I…I did something bad Angel," he ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't stop doing bad things! I taint everything."

She touched his arm but he moved away.  
"My whole life is deceiving and lying and cheating," he turned to her and gripped her arms. "You're the only good, pure thing I have and I'm going to hurt you too."  
"No you won't," she smiled and it made him more hyped up.  
"You silly little girl," he said shaking her slightly. "Don't you understand how bad I am? There is nothing good or special about me, Angela. I am a bad person."

Angela slapped him across the face and he stumbled back in shock. It was relatively painless, she was quite small and didn't have much force behind her but she wasn't usually violent.

They stared at each other with mutual anger and frustration now. Patrick stepped forward, grabbed her face and kissed her fiercely. He wanted her to pull away or hit him or something but she put her arms around his neck and returned all the passion and emotion that he was giving her. It felt like fire and it was amazing and his thoughts were turn into a hopeless muddle. Patrick wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up. It was quite dark and he slipped on one of her open books and they both fell onto her bed where he rested on his elbows and climbed over the top of her. His brain was going into overdrive and he forgot the reason he came over in the first place or the reason he was upset. His whole world at that moment was this kiss and Angela.

Still continuing the kiss, Angela clumsily worked at the buttons on his shirt while his hands unzipped the jacket he'd just put on her moments before. Angela's hands were warm and soft against his chest and stomach on the inside of his unbuttoned shirt and his hands slid down her back, gripping tightly at the flimsy singlet. Patrick pulled her up in a sitting position with him and she pushed his shirt off of him while he hurriedly pulled the top off her before laying her back down again.

They were the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen and he took a moment to admire them which Angela took the wrong way as she blushed furiously and moved her arms down to cover them.  
"No, you're beautiful," Patrick said catching her wrists and pressing a kiss to the creases of them before returning to her lips.

Very soft and exactly the right size for his hands to cup and without thinking, he did exactly that as he went back to kissing her with all the passion in the world. He felt her heart accelerate and he broke away briefly to make sure she was okay. He ran his thumb across her hard nipples and she breathed out loudly in response.

Patrick moved from her lips to kiss her neck, allowing her to catch her breath. He kissed her collarbone down to her breasts then left a trail of kisses down her stomach. Angela grew frustrated and leaned up to pull him down and furiously kisses him. Their naked chests were pressed together and he could feel just how much she wants this. How much they both want this and need this.

"Patrick," she moaned against his mouth and he roped his hands in her hair. She reached down to his pants zipper and undid them before sliding them down and he realised that he needed to set boundaries. They couldn't have sex now. It wasn't planned and it wasn't romantic and he didn't have a condom and her family were sleeping down the hall.

He gripped her hands and pulled them over her hand, hoping to deter her.  
Patrick left one last lingering kiss upon her lips and slid down between her legs, briefly noticing the modest yellow cotton panties she was wearing.

He pressed a finger into her through her underwear and she arched her back and moaned in response. "Shhh, baby," he hushed her, reminding her that her father and brother slept only a few doors away.

Angela bit down on her lip to keep quiet and even through her underwear, Patrick could tell how wet and ready she was. He slid them down her thighs and she helped by lifting her hips so he could lower them down her legs and throw them next to his discarded pants. Patrick returned to kissing and licking and gently sucking the delicate, creamy skin of her inner thighs, right above her knees. One of his hands found the small mat of curly brown hair that rose onto her pelvic bone and he began rocking the heel of his hand, mimicking the rhythm they had both found while kissing a few moments ago. His other hand reached around and under her hips to better bring her toward him.

She was moist and hot and her body wanted him. Her heart was beating louder and her breath was laboured as he moved closer to the place she wanted him, she needed him, to be.

He leant forward and gently stroked his tongue up her glistening folds and she sighed his name and knotted her hands in his hair. His tongue seemed to bring his name to her lips and he enjoyed that most of all.

Patrick rubbed his thumb against her clitoris which makes Angela whimper and writhe underneath him as he worked his fingers on her bundle of nerves.

"Patrick," she whimpered quietly as she arched up again. "So…uh…good.."  
She was right. It was good. Because she tasted amazing. Sweet and amazing and Angela. No one had ever touched her in this way.

"Patr…uh….I…I'm…"she gasped out incoherently, while thrashing around on the bed. He held her down by her thighs and she came. He gently kissed her sweet spot before returning to her beautiful face.

"Oh gosh," Angela gasped her face flushed and breathless. He has never been more aroused in his life and he cannot control himself when her fingertips graze over his erection pressing painfully against his boxer shorts which are quickly discarded and he could not recall whose doing it was.

His tip brushed against her entrance and she gasped. A shock coursed through Patrick's body, every nerve ending alive. All his senses were heightened and he was deliciously consumed by everything; the sight of Angela beneath him, the sweetness of her breath, the lingering taste of her and the invigorating smell of her orgasm.

Just as he prepared to penetrate her for the first time, she whispered his name, "Patrick."  
He froze. She sounded comfortable but uncertain. All of a sudden his mind decided to work again and he remembered Angela and how much he loved her. How lovely and quirky and frustrating she was and how annoyingly obsessed she was with those silly old books filled with romance and gentlemen and frilly dresses.

Patrick wanted her so badly but he needed to make love to her properly. Not spontaneous and fuelled by frustration. Though there was no turning back for him at this point.

He laid his hardness on her pelvic bone and reached down to passionately kiss her and she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. Patrick was intoxicated and drowned in the sensation of being engulfed by her limbs. Slowly, but with increasing pressure and speed, he rubbed himself against her. Her hips rocked against him intensifying the sensation that was growing within him.

Angela released his mouth and reached for his ear, gently nibbling at his earlobe and whispering sweet things inaudibly. He heard her quickened breath and it felt warm on his neck. His senses were on overload.

She moaned quietly; "Oh. Patrick."

That is all he needed to hear. His eruption was complete and devoured all of his self control. Patrick convulsed and shuddered and his hands clawed into her pillow and buried his face into her hair, muffling his noise.

The heat that had been building and pooling in his body was released over her stomach and pelvis and thighs. There was a flash like an electrical current that fired his every nerve ending simultaneously. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut yet there was a light like bursting fireworks in his vision. His nose was filled with Angela's scent and the smell of his own ejaculation to combine to become one of complete satisfaction. Her fingers were tangled in his hair and her heartbeat against his chest felt lovely.

Suddenly shocked back to reality, he weakly raised himself on his arms, certain that in him getting carried away, he had frightened or hurt Angela. His eyes struggled to focus on her gorgeous face.

"Did I hurt you?" Patrick asked hurriedly stroking the sides of her face.  
"Mhm?" Angela mumbled sleepily. Her face was still pink and hot.  
"Are you okay?"  
"I'm great, how are you?" she said deliriously but she sounded content.  
"I'm great too," he said relieved taking in her swollen plump lips, her messy hair and flustered cheeks.

He moved and swung his legs off her bed.  
"Where are you going," she asked heartbreakingly suddenly taking his hand.  
"I just have to, urh, clean us up a little."  
"Okay," she said sleepily resting her eyes.

Patrick got some tissues from the box on her desk and cleaned himself up before cleaning up the mess he made over her stomach and legs. She would have to wash her bed sheets tomorrow.

He pulled on his boxer shorts and pants and was buttoning up his shirt next to her when she touched his arm softly with her eyes closed.  
"Patrick?"  
"Yeah, Angela?"  
"I'm sorry I hit you."  
"And I'm sorry I was a jerk," he said putting his jacket over her and covering her with her quilt.

"I don't think you're a bad person, Patrick," she yawned snuggling and burying her face into his jacket and fell asleep.  
Patrick sat beside her for a while, stroking her hair, her face.  
"I'm in love with you," he told her as she slept soundly. "I properly love you and I can't give you what you deserve."

"Goodnight Evangeline," he whispered to her after an hour or so. Patrick kissed her forehead and nose and made sure she was properly tucked in before climbing out her window and disappearing into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm really going to try and keep this apology short even though I feel I could go on for ages! I am so sorry for the ridiculously long time it has taken me to update. My best friend (you may have read some of her stories from a while pack. Her pen name is Sectumsempress if you want to check them out) is very ill and wants me to continue her unfinished Mentalist fanfiction stories (she's a dedicated little thing) so I've been busy trying to get a feel for those so I can start writing her chapters for her. Any readers that have had a family member or friend with a terminal illness or life changing disability will understand how hard it is to write during this time so I hope you guys understand why the wait has been so long. I'm really sorry again and I promise regular updates from now on. I really hope you enjoy the next chapter and thank you again to the subscribers and reviewers for your ongoing support. It makes my day! :D Also, feel free to call me out on any punctuation/spelling errors – I'm a shocking editor and I really need to learn from mistakes :P **

"Patrick?" Angela said sleepily rolling over but nobody responded. She opened her eyes blearily to find the room a lot less dark than it had been when she'd heard his voice for what seemed like four seconds ago. The sky had made her room a dark purple and the birds were chirping loudly.

Angela sleepily stretched her arms out and was surprised when her limbs ached in protest and felt like lead. She frowned and examined her arms for bruises when she realised she was naked and there was a familiar jacket under her head. She sat up confused until recollections from night before came flooding back like a battering ram. She flopped back down on her pillow with one hand over her mouth and the other in her hair. It sounded silly but she'd assumed it was just another dream and she couldn't wrap her head around the reality.

Her clock told her it was just after four am. An ungodly hour without the presence of coffee. Her hip joints felt sore. She didn't believe they'd ever been in that position before, certainly not for that long! It's was good sore, a pleasant ache and she finally managed to get her legs to cooperate and wrapped her quilt around her to gather and put on her clothes. She walked into the adjoining bathroom her family shared. She leaned over the sink, put the plug in and turned the faucet on. Angela closed her eyes and lightly touched her lips trying to recall every detail of the way he kissed her and the feel of every touch to cement the reality that it was Patrick Jane's lips that had been there.

She smiled to herself and looked up in the mirror and sighed disappointingly. Angela wasn't a depressed girl who obsessed over her attractiveness or lack thereof with self-loathing and criticism. She knew she was traditionally and generically pretty. She wasn't oblivious to the attention she received from boys about her appearance but she was just textbook pretty. Not beautiful or desirable. She'd inherited all the customary good Ruskin genes. Attractive clean skin, slender, dark haired, good cheekbones, long-lashed blue eyes. They were easily distinguishable from a crowd to any carnie that knew their history. Ruskin children looked like they had come straight out of a catalogue for test-tube babies. As she was nearing adulthood though, Angela was beginning to become less appreciative of this fact. She didn't look anything like a mature, desirable woman. Her figure was void of any womanly curves, her bra size seemed laughable and her pure skin made her look a lot younger. Jack looked sexier in a pair of skinny jeans then she could ever hope to.

Angela tried to not look in the mirror as she splashed water onto her face. There were a lot of beautiful women that would visit the carnival. She always saw Patrick with beautiful women. They were always slight variations on a consistent theme. Much older than her, gorgeous defined bodies, perfectly stylised make up and outfits, mature and bodacious features and blonde, red or light coloured hair done up in the most extravagant of styles. It was up to him what he liked, she guessed. Not everyone had time to make themselves look drop dead gorgeous every day of the week and the position she had been born into certainly left no spare time. Even with learning the ropes of the general upkeep of the carnival to appease her hopeful father, Angela still managed to educateherself on every subject whatever the closest library offered. It was redundant, she knew. Knowing how to calculate the radius of a circle or memorising the constitution was meaningless in her world. Luckily she had mastered the skill of putting on her most convincing smile while her father sat on his lucrative throne of lies, deceit and voracity which she was destined to inherit along with all the broken outcasts that somehow found solace in this place. At least everyone was fiercely loyal of each other, if nothing else. Angela desperately wished for a better life for them all. For Sam and Pete and especially for the three men she loved the most.

She returned to her room and folded his jacket in a neat pile; a contrast to her messy floor. She could only imagine the difficulty her best friend had, doing what he did to her last night, then being satisfied with what little he received in return. She felt a little selfish and self centered. He was entirely willing to give her what her body so desperately needed and she didn't even offer to reciprocate. It did appear, however, that he did get a little something, though by comparison to what he must be used to, it was probably awkward and unpleasant.

When Angela had first fantasised about her first time with Patrick, she thought one of the best things when it came to her experience or lack of thereof, she wouldn't feel embarrassed afterwards. However, lately she'd found herself becoming extremely self-conscious about it all. Even though she was the polar opposite to his type, he couldn't find her too repulsive if he'd willingly have done those things. She had no idea why she had started over thinking about these dangerously intense thoughts. It was probably all that herbal tea Sam had been force feeding her. It was starting to affect her brain.

The breeze coming from the window he'd left open upon exiting was lovely and she looked out of it, wondering where he was and if he was sleeping or up, lost in his thoughts like her. It was moving day so it was going to be an early morning for everyone but it seemed she was the only one awake at that moment. Maybe he was with that other woman he was recently gallivanting around with. Lindsay or Leslie or something. Or maybe he had agreed to meet up with an infatuated pretty local girl like he usually did. She slammed the window shut, yanked closed the curtains and went back to sleep.

"Rise and shine my darling first born," Jonathan said pulling open her curtains a mere half an hour later.  
"Urgh," she moaned pulling her quilt over her head. The lack of energy from last night's activities was setting in. "Go away."

"A Ruskin who's late to start packing up isn't a very good look, Evangeline."  
"Neither's a Ruskin with no head…Jonathan."  
He chuckled and wiggled her exposed foot.  
"If we don't get on the road this morning, we're going to miss opening night and lose money. Then I'm going to have to sell you to a fat rich Italian man to be his bride. Don't think we haven't considered it."  
"You're appalling," she glared at him sitting up. "Considering exploiting your own daughter's innocence for financial gain."  
"Don't feel bad, honey. Daniel's kidney is next on the list," he ruffling her birds-nest hair and leaving her to get dressed.

When 5am rolled past, preparations were in full swing. Pete and Jonathan were leading the heavy lifting crowd and Sam was barking orders and had Danny by the ear so he didn't run off. Angela was attempting to walk around after fifteen minutes sitting with an impromptu icepack wedged between her behind and a chair. Sam walked in on her attempting to stave off insomnia by catching a few minutes of well-deserved sleep and tipped her entire mattress on its side and of course, because luck had never been in her favour, she went sprawling onto the floor and landed on her Coccyx bone.

"Careful there, Angie," Pete said, taking her wrist and helping her hobble to her next checkpoint. He let out a little nostalgic chuckle. "This reminds me of when I was a teenager and you were a wee little toddler and holding on to everyone's hand to catch a ride."  
"Glad to hear I've progressed since then."  
"Ow, don't be hard on yourself. You've survived Hurricane Sam for nearly eighteen years without too bad an injury," Pete whistled. "Wow, twenty years I've been at this for."  
"Thinking about moving on?" Angela asked.  
"No, no, Ange," Pete said nervously. "Never."  
"Why?" she asked. "You and Sam deserve more after all the work you've put into this place. You should start a family."  
"We can have a family here," Pete said.  
"Yeah, but-" Pete covered her mouth.  
"You've always had some wild ideas, best keep them up in here though," he laughed nervously tapping her head. "There's a good girl."

000

"Grab me those lights, Paddy," his dad said and Patrick handed him the twine of lights that decorated their tent.  
"There we go, all done," his dad said admiring the quick pack up they'd managed. They had finished in Iowa and were about to begin the four hour drive to Kansas. Patrick attached their trailer to his father's trucks towbar.

"Go grab your truck boy so you can follow me down."  
"Um, dad?"  
"Yeah, my boy?"  
"Could I go help the Ruskin's? I know they've got a lot of heavy metal to pack up."  
"Ah, clever boy. Of course, go help the Ruskin's," his dad said ruffling Patrick's hair uncharacteristically. "I'll see you when you get down there."

Patrick was curious about his dad's cooperation but didn't push it as he jumped in his car. He hadn't slept a wink last night just anticipating the next time he'd be able to see her and touch her and talk to her. He was certain that their relationship had changed, in one way or another. Last night was without a doubt the most incredible experience of his life (so far, he made as an afterthought) and only further reinforced his belief that she was undoubtedly the most perfect human being he would ever lay eyes upon. He was a little nervous about how she felt though. If she was happy about last night or if she was horrified at what had happened. In his opinion, there wasn't any denying the chemistry and electricity between them and everything about last night was more natural and perfect than he could imagine love to be. If she saw it as well, she could be thinking the same way but on the other hand, if she hadn't felt anything at all she may be rethinking their agreement.

Even though he still hadn't figured out his feelings about that situation, he couldn't deny how badly he wanted it to happen and had started to plan what to do for her birthday. He considered taking her somewhere romantic, making it a surprise kind of thing. Except Angela hated surprises and everything romantic he could think of would not suit her whatsoever. Patrick as supposed to be trying to make her fall in love with him and despite his extensive success with women, he really had no idea how to. He had never put that much effort into wooing girls. They'd always come to him and he'd never had a relationship or been in love with them or anything like that. Occasionally he'd taken girls on a date here and there but usually they only wanted one thing from him and he was happy to provide. How on earth was he supposed to convince the most beautiful girl…woman...in the world that he could love her more than any other man could possibly strive to?

Patrick drove to where a group of people were disassembling and packing up the ghost train. Pete was lifting the last of the carts over his head with ease and into the truck. Jonathan and Sam were chatting with concerned looks on their faces and he followed their stare to where Angela was trying to coax the baby elephant into one of the cages. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest and for the first time in his life, he felt nervous. Even though his eyes annoying had to notice at first glance how the morning sun set off her skin and lustrous hair in the most beautiful of ways, it became fleetingly obvious that she had made no effort to 'do herself up' this morning as any girl who knew she was going to be in the presence of a potential suitor would have.

Her hair was in a messier version of her usual plaid that hung over her left shoulder, her blue plaid shirt was crumpled and the bulgy brown parka she wore was too long in the sleeves and nearly came down to her knees. Although he thought in the back of his mind, it was probably better this way to have her tantalising skin and flawless body covered up so he at least had a small chance of being able to get a complete sentence out without his mind wandering to last night's events and rendering him speechless. She was wearing her sunglasses even though the sun was still yet to fully rise as if she had a hangover.

"Come on Penelope!" she coaxed trying to comfort the disobedient animal who had a grudge against the girl.

Patrick noticed her movements were very stiff and awkward and he hoped he hadn't hurt her last night. She wrapped the rope tightly around her wrist and tried tugging again to get Penelope to shift forwards but to no avail. He got out of the car to help her – Penelope adored Patrick, like all the women in his life, bar one.

The elephant saw Patrick coming over and eagerly turned towards him in the opposite direction. Angela, who had the rope tied around her wrist, went flying and dragged through two metres of dirt. She heard Patrick and her father chuckling and she briefly envisioned a painful ordeal for both of them.

She felt Patrick's hands under her arms and he lifted her with ease to her feet from her second encounter with the ground today. She quickly brushed the dirt off her face feeling like an idiot as she had been half hoping Patrick had already left so she could have at least brushed her hair before seeing him again.

"Good morning," he smiled warmly, kissing her hand. She yanked her hand away and stowed it in her pocket before glancing at her father who was preoccupied and Patrick laughed softly.  
"Morning," she said quietly and ducked around him to pick up Penelope's rope and trying to avoid his eyes. She was blushing furiously and Patrick couldn't deduce whether it was his presence or just her general frustration at her life.

He watched her lead a satisfied Penelope into her cage and locked it up. He didn't consider the possibly worst scenario that she would just ignore what happened completely. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear Sam approach him.  
"If you're going to hang around and enjoy the scenery, Boy Wonder, at least be useful while you do it," she said thrusting a cotton candy machine into his arms.

With Jonathan's expert coordination and Sam's instilment of fear, the company managed to pack everything up within the hour and were ready to hit the road.  
Angela lugged her full book bag to the car before Patrick scooped it off her shoulder and slung it over his own.  
"The princess of the carnival shouldn't be engaging in such labour."  
She burned with a mixture of rage and embarrassment. "It's not that heavy."  
"Are you kidding?" Patrick said. "There are more books in here than I've seen in my life."  
"Not saying much then," she teased back and he was glad she was at least returning some of his fire like usual.  
He tugged on her plait and detoured towards his car.  
"Um...my rides over that way, Boy Wonder," she said pointing in the opposite direction and planting her other hand on her hip and Patrick's mouth went dry and it was hard to talk.

"Your dad said I could take you," he shrugged putting her bag in the back. With any luck, she wouldn't be needing those to entertain her for the drive.  
"Really?" she looked at him with amazement. "Jonathan Ruskin is leaving his most prized possession in the hands of the reckless teenage panty-dropper?"  
"I am not reckless," he said feigning hurt. "And besides, the man loves me. We'll be getting invites to our own wedding soon."  
"Yeah," she rolled her eyes and hopped in the passenger side. "I don't know which is more implausible. My marrying Patrick Jane or my dad willingly letting his heir free."  
"We can still get married and stay with the carnival," Patrick said and then realised exactly what he had said. _Other people. We can be married to other people, _he wanted to say but thought he would just put his foot further down his throat. Not to mention, he tried to be honest with Angela if no one else and he couldn't imagine the possibility to tying himself to anyone forever if it wasn't her.

"I know that," she said quietly and looked at the Iowa site for the last time. "Do you ever think about doing something different? Something other than this?"  
"Like illusions?"  
"No, not like illusions," she snapped. "Like different to his," she gestured to the Midwest scenery. "Forests or ocean or snow…"  
"Have you been drinking some of Sam's funky tea again?" Patrick asked.  
"No, I just think it's a vicious cycle of repetition."

They sat in silence thoughtfully for a few minutes.  
"You couldn't have a carnival in a forest or ocean or in the snow," he commented.  
Angela sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose and Patrick thought he may have missed something. Not uncommon with his difficult woman.

The next hour was spent talking about nearly everything except, infuriatingly to Patrick, the events of last night. If not for the taste of her lips still tingling on his own and the marks her fingernails had left on his back, he would've considered he had dreamt the beauty of what lay underneath her shapeless clothes. He needed to hear he confirm it out loud though and spent a while mustering up the courage to bring it up.

Angela was softly singing along to whatever song was currently playing on the radio.  
"Sorry about last night," Patrick said trying to sound nonchalant.  
"It-it's okay," Angela replied trying to sound casual and off-hand too. Her eyes were hidden behind her Aviators and she put her feet up on the dashboard. "I'm sure you had other things to do."  
She started quickly chatting about how unfair it was that the sideshow alley games were probably rigged. Patrick wasn't entirely sure what she meant about having other things to do. He was apologising for waking her at a ridiculous hour, breaking in through her window and ravishing her within an inch of taking entirely. He detected a hint of bitterness in her tone but couldn't place it.

They stopped to get lunch a little while later. The pretty waitress kept checking back in, warmly touching Patrick's hand or shoulder while doing so. Angela couldn't help but think it was a little rude given how even though they weren't; they could possibly have been a couple on a date. Then she realised everyone probably assumed they were related or just friends given how someone as handsome and lovely as Patrick would never be with, well, someone like her. Patrick, however, even with his usually excellent radar when it came to interested attractive women, couldn't take his eyes off Angela for a second to even notice the attention he was receiving.

"Did you get her number?" Angela asked as they got back into the car.  
"What?" Patrick asked her.  
"The waitress that was flirting up a storm with you?" she said blatantly.  
"Oh, was she?" Patrick asked genuinely unaware. "I didn't notice."  
Angela just smiled and punched him in the arm like he was teasing her.

Patrick asked Angela a lot about her 'school work' as such. Angela was as a sponge of knowledge, but unlike Patrick, she retained the relevant kind. Even though, Angela knew he didn't understand why she taught herself such useless things, he was always fascinated by her talking about them. When she spoke about certain things like her books, she spoke with such passion he had never heard in her voice when she spoke about the carnival. It made him love her more if that were even possible.

"It's amazing how you can fit so much into your day," Patrick commented. "All your training and chores and you still have time for this hobby."  
"It's not a hobby," her eyes narrowed defensively. "It's important stuff and everyone here should be able to get the chance to learn about it."  
Patrick smiled at her fire. "I'm sure if they had the time they would. It's not easy you know, to keep up the constant good work to keep your place. One slip up and you could be out. Luckily my dad keeps me focused. See, you're extremely lucky, Angela. You're the carnival princess. You're future is already set out for you in a neat little bow, you just have to walk in a straight line."

He saw Angela stiffen and avert her eyes to out the window. He thought he saw he wipe her cheek a few times looking annoyed with herself. He saw a turnoff from the main road and took it fast making her gasp loudly.  
"Where are you going?! Patrick! This isn't the way! You're going the wrong way!"  
He chuckled evilly and she looked out the window at the cornfield they were surrounded by. She had seen _Children of the Corn_; she knew how this went down.

"What are you doing?!" she grabbed his arm when they came to a stop.  
He grinned and reached his hands up to hold her face. "Well, if you already think I'm reckless, Ruskin. That's what you're going to get."  
He kissed her chastely on the edge of her lips leaving her with the cutest astonished expression he had ever seen and he laughed and got out of his car to explore their surroundings.

Angela chased after him, calling his name while she ran.  
"Patrick Jane!" she yelled. "Don't think I won't kick your ass just because you're my best friend! Come back now!"  
She stopped to catch her breath and looked around to discover she was in the middle of a terrifying corn field not knowing which way was what all the while her stupid gorgeous best friend was gallivanting around like a golden fairy in his domain.

For some reason, she got a sickly, sinister feeling in her stomach. Her heart started to race and her bones felt frozen.  
"RAAAAH," Patrick yelled coming out of the field behind her and grabbing her waist. She screamed so loud that several crows went soaring into the sky looking disgruntled.  
She spun around, still in his arms and punched him in the shoulder with her bunny-ish fury.  
"You idiot, you made me scream!"  
"You didn't seem to complain about that last night," he joked.  
He laughed at the scandalised expression on her face and she punched him again harder.

Patrick laughed again and wrapped his arms around her tighter, pinning hers down by her sides to avoid any more beatings and picked her up and ran in a random direction. They came across and barn and he put her down. "We are going to get so lost," she fussed, nervously pulling at the bottom of her shirt. "Dad's going to get so worried."  
"No he won't" Patrick smiled at her. "He knows I wouldn't ever let anything happen to you."  
She was chewing at her bottom lip making Patrick notice them and how he would love to taste them again.

He picked her up again, bridal style this time, causing her to curse angrily pointing out the fact that she had legs, though she didn't fight him, instead resting comfortably into him. He delicately nuzzled her neck which was exposed to him and they went into the barn. Patrick dropped her into a soft pile of hay which made her shriek quietly. He laid over her, resting his arms on either side of her so their bodies weren't touching.  
"Patrick, someone might come!" her beautiful bright eyes were wide.  
"With any lucky," he smiled and Angela rolled her eyes and shoved him.  
"You're incorrigible!"  
"And yet, here you always are."  
"Well, I can't exactly say the same for you," her eyes narrowed. "Here one second and gone the next. Maybe you should make sure there's a window you can escape via before you go any further."

Patrick looked down at her confused before he clicked. That's what she was talking about in the car earlier. He rested on one elbow so he could stroke her face with his free hand.  
"Is that what you were upset about, sweetheart?" he said softly staring into her eyes. "That I left afterwards?"  
She huffed and rolled her eyes. "For goodness sake, Patrick. I'm a Ruskin. I was not _upset_. I don't get _upset_ about things…"  
"I won't leave again," he promised sincerely and kissed her softly and hungrily at the same time. He was gentler and slower this time. Last night he was worked up and emotional and he regretted not taking the chance to document every little response she made to his touch. Their lips worked together in perfectly harmony and with a gentle tumble of awkward hands and fingers all the buttons on both of their shirts became undone allowing them to explore one another.

Patrick's hands memorised every curve of her body and rested on her flat stomach while the other went to hold her face while he kissed her neck. Angela was focusing on keeping her heart from bursting out of her chest as his expert hands traced her body in the most marvellous of ways and his lips pressed soft and adoring kisses on her neck. She opened her eyes and tried to focus her vision so she could see for herself whether he was enjoying her himself or doing this as a favour, to make their agreement less awkward when the time came.

She saw the inside of the decrepit and dark barn. It was musty and cold even though Patrick's body was more than enough heat for her. The beams were crumbling and a fraying rope was swinging back and forth from one of them. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to get rid of the sickly feeling that had returned and wanting to go back to the heaven she was in moments before. A sudden terrifying vision popped into her head of someone screaming, choking for air and the metallic smell of blood filled her nose.

"NO!" she screamed covering her face with her hands.  
"Evangeline!" Patrick gasped and he was off her in an instant. He held her shoulders and gently shook her. "Are you okay?! Oh god, did I hurt you? Are you alright? Please answer me, Angel."  
She sat up fast, her head spinning from whatever had just happened. Her mouth tasted like blood. She had bit her tongue.

"I'm…I'm okay," she said shakily. "I'm sorry. I just, I don't know…"  
"You don't need to explain yourself, sweetheart," he told her, hugging her tightly. She held on to him like a life line.  
"I'm sorry," she said again shakily. "I didn't mean to…"  
"No means no, Angel," he told her doing up the buttons on her shirt for her. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."  
"You're amazing," she looked up at him as he did up the buttons for his own shirt. He kissed her forehead.  
"Are you okay?" he took her hands in his and looked at her with concern and fright.

Angela looked around. "This place scares me."  
He looked at her and nodded before helping her up. Angela was a determined and fiercely independent person, he knew. She wouldn't admit to anything frightening her unless it was serious.  
"Let's go then," he said putting his arm around her and leading her out into the sunlight.

Patrick tried to bring their light-hearted banter back as they walked through the field back to the car even though Angela could feel his eyes on her. Probably worried that she was going to freak out again. She glanced back at the red barn where the sun was setting, making the peeling paint look like a bloodied mark. Angela shivered in Patrick's arms and he held her tightly to him for a moment before opening the car door.

She got in and buckled her seat belt trying not to feel utterly humiliated and confused.  
He didn't shut her door but leaned in with a very uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.  
"I'm never going to let anything bad ever happen to you," he promised fiercely. It wasn't the first time he had said it. "You know that right?"  
"I know," she tried to smile at him but looked more as if she had a toothache.

Patrick smiled warmly at her and leaned in to kiss her forehead once more.


	7. Chapter 7

**My attempt at an Angelick argument in this chapter. Please leave your comments at the bottom and thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited or subscribed. Your support means the world. **

"Paddy, my boy," Alex Jane said joyously clapping his young son on the shoulder. "That was a terrific show. Well done! The marks are in your pocket and I've sold you three private appointments tonight. You'd be amazed at what these suckers are payin'."  
"That's great, Dad," Patrick said taking a gulp of water. He didn't really want to know how much the suckers were paying as he knew he wouldn't see much of it after his father used most of it to cover gambling debts and the rest on more gambling and booze. Patrick felt a misplaced sense of responsibility however since it was the gambling problem that funded his show and kept them in the business in the beginning.

Patrick had managed to gather some savings for himself from the piddly percentage his father gave him after each show and the not so rare tip he was given.  
"How is our other investment going?" Alex asked filing through the bundles of notes they'd received from entry. Patrick wasn't stupid. He knew what his father meant and had suspected it since his father started uncharacteristically given a damn about his personal life. Those suspicions were confirmed a few nights ago when he heard his father bragging to his poker buddies about how his son was getting in with the carnival princess and their futures would be set for life. He had wanted to punch his father's lights out for saying such things – as if Patrick gave a damn about what family Angela came from. She could have come from a family of the poorest beggars without a penny or title to her name and he still would think she was the most gracious angel to ever walk the Earth.

"If you're talking about Angela, she's fine," he replied tersely. "Speaking of actually, I'm going to need to take her birthday off in a couple of weeks. It's December so it will be dead anyway."  
"I'm sure we can work something out for that," Alex said thoughtfully.  
"And if you're conspiring anything, you may as well forget it," Patrick continued, fixing up his shirt. "She's just my friend."  
"Ah, for now, Paddy, for now," Alex told him. "But just you wait, it won't be long and she'll be wrapped around your little finger – just like every mark."

Patrick exhaled loudly and physically bit his tongue so he didn't retort angrily at his father. The only reason he _hadn't_ punched his father's lights out was that he knew he could use this to his advantage since his father wouldn't object to him wasting any time with Angela. The show had always come first but now Patrick and his father could agree that perhaps there was something more important – even if it was for completely different reasons.

"On that subject, don't keep the customers waiting! Make sure you lay on the charm thick tonight – make them feel special like I told you. Those debts won't pay themselves and you aint getting any cheaper to keep around."  
"Yes, Dad," Patrick sighed and left the tent.

000

Patrick pocketed $52.70 to add to his savings, which in hindsight of how much they probably made tonight was laughable but was definitely a good amount for him for one night. He just wished that he could find a better way to make that money. The private readings were a good idea some time ago, now a majority of the clients were either wanting him to channel dead family members, ask about cheating husbands or buying into his father's pitch of 'come see the amazingly handsome boy wonder who can tell your future and you can feel him up and make out with him afterward for a small fee'. It was horrendous, he knew but what else was there to do? His only other option was to stand up to his father and probably leave. Not an option since cutting his heart out and throwing it over his shoulder on the midway as he left seemed like a less painful choice than leaving Angela and never seeing her again. Just to linger in her life, even if she was unreachable, was worth any measure of pain or inconvenience, in retrospect.

He wouldn't be able to see her for a while since she was in Jack's magic show tonight which happened after Patrick's performance in the big top across the carnival.  
"Jack has a show and I'm being his assistant. He's reluctant though. He never likes me doing it. I don't think I'm distracting enough," she sighed as she told him this morning, chewing her lip as they wandered through the midway.  
The magician's assistant's purpose was to be beautiful and charming and distract the audience to take the attention off the magician for portions of time. Patrick knew the reason Jack was reluctant to use Angela was she was a little too distracting and a little too charming. Jack was an amazing performer but Patrick had to be honest, when he went to see the show and Angela was his assistant, he was so mesmerised by her on stage he couldn't pay attention to the flashy sleight of hand tricks.

Patrick flicked the lights off in his dressing room when a pair of hands covered his eyes mischievously. "Guess who?"  
He smiled widely that she had gotten off early and spun around eagerly, arms wrapping around her waist, which was a little curvier than he remembered it though she was probably in a stiff and fitted costume. Cherry lips crushed against his, eagerly and forcefully and he knew immediately that something was wrong and stepped back.

"Eleanor?" he gasped as he looked at the girl. "What the hell are you doing?"  
"Hey boy wonder," she smiled curling one of her hair feathers around her finger. "I heard Leslie bitching about how she's bored of you and I didn't see you sneak off with a local like you usually do, so I thought you would be up to reminiscing about old times."  
She leaned in again and he caught her wrists, holding her back. "Elea, that was one time. And it was over a year ago."

He'd slept with a lot of girls – sort of his coping mechanism for dealing with the clients his father found. Girls who came with the carnival and local girls. Eleanor had been a one night drunken stand sometime ago. She'd had her eye on Patrick for months and took her chance one night which Patrick knew was a mistake. He thought he wouldn't have to see her again when her family left the circuit last year but Jonathan gave her a job few months ago when she returned by herself. Patrick didn't know the story there but he wasn't entirely desperate to find out.

Eleanor giggled and brushed his shoulder lightly. "Come on, Paddy, I've missed you."  
She pushed him so he fell backwards onto his dressing table and she started unzipping his pants.  
"Elea! No!" he protested. "You and Angela are friends."  
"So? It's not like you're going steady with her."  
"No, but still…" Patrick said sliding all the way back so his back was against the mirror in an attempt to get away from her wandering hands.

"Patrick," she sighed and tossed her curly hair behind her shoulders as she removed her shirt and straddled Patrick's lap. "Angela is a nice girl and a good friend. But to make it here, you've got to be more than that. You're with the show or you're not. There's no sitting on the fence. I'm sorry to say it but she's more of a mark than a carnie. That's what everyone says. You're from different planets. And besides…if you think little miss innocent is holding out waiting for you, you're wrong."  
"What are you talking about?" Patrick asked, momentarily relinquishing his struggle.  
Eleanor's brown eyes went bright with the relish of revealing fresh gossip.  
"Aaron just dumped his girlfriend for Angela and they're going out on a date. I just saw them outside the big top talking about it. I think they're going to a dinner at a place called Belle on the weekend?"

Patrick felt his whole body tense under Eleanor's with this new piece of information and for a moment, he swore he could literally rip Aaron in half. He knew he couldn't stop Angela from dating when he was too cowardly to tell her how he felt. If Angela found a man that deserved her more than Patrick did, Patrick would even pretend to be happy for her and honestly wish her all the happiness and love in the world and spend the rest of his life absolutely heartbroken. But Aaron? No. He would kill the bastard before he touched a single hair on her head.

"I've got to go," Patrick said trying to shift Eleanor off him and reclaim his pants but she gripped his shoulders and pushed him back against his mirror.  
"Patrick, you need to stop doing this to yourself. She isn't for you."  
"Eleanor, I'm not kidding around with you. I'm sorry but it was one night and I was drunk and I can barely remember it. You had a boyfriend at the time, I recall. It was a mistake, Eleanor. You need to let me go."

Her usually bright and chirpy eyes turned malicious.  
"I'll…I'll tell Angela about us," she whispered her voice shaking only slightly.  
"What?"  
"I'll tell Angela what happened between us," she repeated, more confidently now. "I've seen you with her. If she asked you about it, you couldn't even lie to her."  
"That's ridiculous," Patrick chuckled darkly. Why did he always have to sleep around with the pathetic ones?  
"Is it? I overheard Samantha asking Pete if he knew of any good hotels in Kansas for you to take Angela to on her birthday night. It's much more romantic than the patch of grass we found but I guess it's nice given it's her first time. So I would take a stab at saying that there's at least something going on and she wouldn't be thrilled that you'd slept with her other best friend and not told her about it. And something's telling me that you don't want anything to jeopardise your chances of losing her."  
Patrick glared at her and knew that he had no choice.  
She smiled at him and started to kiss his neck leaving trails of cherry lip gloss as she did so. "You always make the right choice. I know you wouldn't put poor Angela through more heartbreak. She's already been through so much..."

000

Still seething with hatred for himself at what he'd done, he parked his car a little out of the way of Jack's tent and got out and stood against it, watching the families spill out joyously. The reason he was still in this shit place came out soon after looking absolutely beautiful in a sequined blue (very short) dress. It shimmered like liquid cerulean. It was getting ridiculous. He saw her every day. His heart needed to stop having a spaz attack every time he laid eyes on her. It was unhealthy.

Patrick tried not to laugh as she walked straight past him. She was too concentrated on walking in the ridiculous strappy heels that Jack had supplied. They kept sinking into the muddy grass and she had trouble walking in socks so it was an interesting adventure.

"Patrick," she gasped, her hand going to her heart as he gently grabbed her arm so she didn't break her ankle.  
He meant to apologise for startling her but when he looked at her he no longer had control over his words. The halter neck dress exposed the porcelain skin of her shoulders and her hair was piled up on top of her head with dark tendrils gently framing her face. Make up was never really her domain but she had applied a small bit of sophisticated eye makeup and red lipstick that made her look older than usual.  
"You look beautiful," he said breathlessly which she took for mocking.  
She smirked and punched his shoulder lightly. "Very funny, mister."

Patrick sighed unhappily and slammed his car door a little harder than usual. He wished she could take him seriously sometimes. This contributed to the terrible mood he was in from Aaron and Eleanor which she could somehow sense and the car ride was very quiet. He had taken them on the road that looped right around the field that the carnival was on. It was the longest route by far. His knuckles were white from gripping the wheel and his expression was furious. She absent-mindedly fiddled with a loose lock of hair and kept glancing at him through her long eyelashes. When this didn't work, she tried sighing loudly several times.

"AHH!," she huffed eventually, slamming her hands down on her thighs and unbuckled her seatbelt so she could turn and face him. "WHAT is the matter?!"  
"Nothing," he said bitterly, not taking his eyes on the road. "Please put your seatbelt back on."

"Are you angry with me?"  
"No," he whispered softly. "Please put your seatbelt back on, Angel."  
"Has someone done something to you?!" Angela demanded. "I'll beat them senseless if they have."  
"With what, Angel? You're rippling strength?" he replied even more bitterly aware of how defenceless she was.

"I don't know, you could always give me that stick that's up your ass and I could use that?" she retorted with a hair pin between her lips. She shook out her long curly hair from its graceful presentation and mussed it up with her fingers until it was comfortably unruly again. He could feel his mouth become dry and his chest tighten at this simple motion but pushed it back down.

What Aaron had said to him the other day cut into his heart like a cold knife. What could he offer Angela? She was so clever, beautiful, pure, talented and forgiving. He was a cheating, womanising good for nothing carnie with no future. His hands tightened on the wheel and his knuckles turned white.

"Please put your seatbelt back on, Evangeline."  
He could feel the heat literally rolling off her in waves as she made a show of putting on her seatbelt huffily. She crossed her arms and scowled for a small while before she really looked at him and how tortured his expression had become.

"Patrick?" she said quietly, all hint of frustration gone.

He slammed on the brakes (mindful her seatbelt was on) and sat stationary for a moment while she stayed silent. His life was hopelessly wrapped around this girl. He would've ditched this place years ago if she hadn't been here. Why did she choose him over anyone else to make love to her? It made no sense. His life was a dangerous poisonous vine to her delicate flower.

"DAMMIT ANGELA!" he yelled and hit his steering wheel with his palm. She hated crying and she wouldn't do it in front of him but she was looking out the window refusing to show him her face so he couldn't tell how much he had upset her.

She turned around angrily, her hair smacking his face as it swished when she unbuckle her seat belt, all rage had been reinstated. Angela's heel got tangled up in the seatbelt and she toppled out of the car headfirst. Patrick hurriedly jumped out of his side to see if she was okay and help her up.  
"No!" she yelled at him, holding him back with one arm and using the other hand to pull up the top of her dress to keep herself decent as she clumsily stood up. "DON'T YOU DARE BE A GENTLEMAN NOW! YOU…YOU…STUPID BOY!"

"You're the one that wanted to sleep with the stupid boy! Or have you switched to delegating that task to Aaron since you're dating now?" Patrick snapped resentfully.  
Angela took a moment to hold her hair back from her face with her hands so she could see him through the wind. "Aaron O'leary? Are you shitting me right now?"  
She didn't swear often so he knew she was properly pissed off.

"I heard he asked you out. You're going to Belle or something on the weekend?"  
"Not that it's any of your damned business, but he did ask me out," Angela told him lividly. "And if you knew anything about your alleged best friend instead of believing the local gossip you would know that I said no."  
"You did?" Patrick said his heart inflating like a balloon and it felt like he would float away.  
"AND I TOLD HIM TO GO TO _HELL_, YOU IMBECILBE! NOT _BELLE_!"  
"Oh, Eleanor told me…"  
"Eleanor, really?!" Angela put on her fakest adoring smile and sweetly sarcastic voice as she planted her hand on her hip. "You mean Eleanor the biggest gossip in the circuit who has the biggest most vomit worthy crush on Patrick Jane and won't stop going on about '_how this one time we made love in a field and it was absolutely magical_'. Like sleeping with you is actually difficult. Of course everything she tells you is completely and utterly true! Since you believe every word that comes out of her precious mouth rather than knowing a single damned thing about me, maybe you should go climbing into her window in the middle of the night!"

She turned around to leave and Patrick stood there absolutely stunned.  
"You knew?" Patrick said quietly. The girls must've had bionic ears because they were far away from each other now and she turned around.  
"Of course I knew! I'm a Ruskin, it's my job to know. Not to mention, Patrick, I'm a girl. I find out everything!"  
"And…and that's…okay with you? You don't hate me for it?"  
"OF COURSE I DON'T _HATE_ YOU, YOU LUNATIC! YOU'RE MY BESTFRIEND AND YOU'RE WONDERFUL AND I LOVE YOU AND THAT WON'T CHANGE NO MATTER WHAT SILLY THING YOU DO! I COULD SEE THE DARKEST SIDE OF YOU AND I STILL WOULDN'T _HATE_ YOU NO MATTER WHAT! YOU…YOU…"

Angela couldn't seem to find a fitting insult that did him justice so instead yelled angrily, her hair was flying everywhere like Medusa at this point, and turned away to stomp back to the carnival by herself. Her exit would have achieved the sassy result she was aiming for if it weren't for the death traps Jack had strapped on to her feet. Patrick watched helplessly as her ankle rolled again and she stumbled. Cursing blue murder as she did it, she leaned against a tree and angrily tore them off her ankles, lobbing them at Patrick for good measure before storming off.

Patrick stood there absolutely dumbfounded by what had just happened. That woman would be the death of him.

"That's some pretty little thing you've got there," a voice said behind him. "I like the fiery ones."  
He turned around and received a solid thwack to the chest sending him sprawling backwards to the ground. Three shadows stood above him and one of them gave him a good solid kick to the ribs and he cried out in surprise.

"You Alex Jane's kid?" one of the men said.  
He was too winded to answer and they took that as confirmation.  
"Tell your Dad to pay his debts by the end of the week or you're both dead."  
One of the men went to hit his face but the leader grabbed his wrist. "Not his face. That's the money-maker."  
He was dizzy with the pain in his ribs and his chest and was unable to move.  
A man leaned down and pulled his head up by his collar. "Tell your dad he has til Friday."  
And with that he smacked Patrick's head against the floor. The pain was so intense, it rang in his ears and he heard the three men speed off nearby. The dark sky and trees went into a dizzy swirl around him as he felt warm liquid trickle around his ear and began the lose consciousness.

Patrick mustered all his remaining energy to turn his head and saw one of her shoes lying next to him. He lifted his hand up weakly to let the blue strap wrap around his finger. Even though, he knew he was going to be sporting the most horrific of all headaches tomorrow, if someone found him at all, he smiled to himself and let the blackness take him. Because she told him she loved him.

**Please, please, please take a second to review. I work really hard on these and it really does mean the world to me to hear people's thoughts x **


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much for AC Mae and Holmesy for reviewing! Please leave your comments below!**

It was still dark when Patrick woke up feeling groggy and disorientated. For a moment he wondered whether he was still on the ground but he felt much too comfortable and warm. He tried to sit up and his head throbbed and ribs ached in protest. He groaned in pain and soft, gentle hands pushed him back on to a pillow that smelt faintly of lavender.

"Shh," she hushed and reapplied a damp cloth to his forehead.  
"Angela?" he moaned barely comprehensible. The pain radiating from his side, chest and head felt like red hot fire.  
"I'm here," she said, patting his hand.

"W-what happened?" he slurred squeezing her hand just to focus on any kind of pressure other than the pain.  
"You got your ass beaten is what looks like happened," Angela told him. "And it wasn't by me if that's what you're thinking. You were dead to the world when I came back."  
"You came back?" he smiled weakly at her shadow.  
"For my shoes," Angela said flatly and he knew she was lying. "Don't flatter yourself psychic boy, I decided to drag you back out of the goodness of my heart."

Angela had dragged his motionless form from under his arms across the midway to her trailer. Pete who was feeding the animals in the menagerie had given her a strange look when she dragged him past. Angela had opened her mouth to explain that she was in fact not a murderer disposing of his body but Pete just put his hand up and said he'd rather not know.

"So, who did this to you? A mob of angry Kansasian female conquests you didn't call back last time you were here?"

Patrick knew she was joking and was trying to keep the evident possessive, protective rage out of her voice. He remembered getting beaten up by the three men – obviously gamblers his father owed a large amount of money to.  
"Yeah, there were five of them," he joked back. "Six if you count the prettiest one that threw her shoes at me."

Even though it was dark in her room, he could practically hear her eyes rolling from the chair she was sitting on next to the bed. She reached over him to the lamp on the opposite side of the bed, exposing her sweet smelling neck to him as she did so making him fight off his desire to kiss the soft skin. Her plait tickled his cheek delightfully. She flicked the lamp on to its dimmest setting and he was intrigued at how it made her skin glow like honey, he also noticed her eyes were slightly puffy and had purple circles underneath them.

She looked at him in the eyes, seriously now.  
"Patrick, are you okay?"  
"It's not that bad," he assured her through his teeth as he shuffled onto his elbows painfully so he could see her properly.  
"Patrick, please," she said sadly, her hand resting on his cheek. "Are you in trouble?"  
Angela saw him hesitate and he sighed. He couldn't lie to her but he wouldn't drag her into this mess. She would just unleash her pent up bunny-ish fury and get furious at the men and his father and try and take care of it herself.

He gathered both of her hands up in his and raised them to his face.  
"Angel," he said quietly looking directly into her sapphire eyes. "I can't tell you what's going on. But please trust me when I say everything is going to be okay."  
"Okay," she nodded and he kissed both of her hands.  
"Thank you."

Angela pulled back the quilt and Patrick realised he was shirtless and his jeans had been removed.  
"Your side is a bit bruised and swollen," she frowned. "I don't think any of your ribs are fractured but I've put an ice pack on you anyway. You've got a gash on the back of your head too. You don't have to panic though, pretty boy, your face is completely unscathed."  
Patrick winced slightly as she readjusted the pack and he laughed darkly and bitterly. "When I thought about the next time you removed my clothes, I wasn't thinking of this."

Patrick received what he now commonly referred to as _the look. _But he swore when she turned away he saw the hint of a smile tug at the corners of her lips. Only after she made him take two aspirin and drink a whole glass of water, did she join him on the bed. He pulled her into his side where she fitted perfectly and arranged the quilt around her shoulders.

She absentmindedly practised a piano composition on his arm, her fingers lightly tapping over imaginary keys and he knew she would be humming inaudibly. Angela did this to any sort of object, usually Patrick.

Her fingers froze. "Aren't you supposed to stay awake in case you have a concussion?" she broke through the silence with worry.  
"I'm fine," he chuckled and held her warm body against his more tightly and brushed his lips over her hair. "But if you're that worried, I can think of a number of creative ways we can stay awake for hours."  
Patrick felt her scrunch her nose and knew if he wasn't injured, she would have punched him. She struggled to dislodge her head from under his chin and looked up at him with annoyance.

"Don't think that we're cool all of a sudden," she glared at him and he knew that she would have her hand planted firmly on her hip if they had been standing. "I'll be nice because you're hurt but when you get better, I'm going to resume my temper with you," she informed him as she snuggled against his chest and closed her eyes.  
He chuckled and stroked her cheek with his hand.  
"But on the contrary, my Angel, you are irresistibly sexy when you get all fired up. Not to mention arguing with you seems to have lately ended up with me being in your bed. So feel free to _lose your temper with me_ any time you desire."

Patrick could feel her fuming but had her too tightly pressed against him for her to react. She muttered muffled words into his chest but Patrick knew she was too exhausted and her sassiness was not at the height it was going to be in the morning when he was bound to pay for his impertinence.

"Thank you for rescuing me, my Angel," he said quietly kissing her hair and thanking her for a god awful lot more than just tonight but she was already sleeping soundlessly on his chest. The pain slowly shifted to a dull ache as he succumbed to sleep as well.

Patrick was enjoying a fantastic dream involving Angela and very little clothing (the dream was delightfully more vivid after their last experience) when he felt himself reluctantly stir awake. His heart stopped momentarily when he felt and saw her straddling his hips and momentarily wondered if he was still in that dream.

However an entirely clothed, still virgin Angela had a sad and angry look on her face as she gently examined and caressed his bruised chest. Her eyes trailed up his chest his neck and met his own dazed stare and she half-smiled at him before averting her gaze, absolutely dazzling him. She was perfect.

"Good morning, Miss Ruskin," he said entirely wide awake now. He stretched underneath her and was surprised at how little the motion hurt. It was bucketing outside and he smiled knowing it was going to be dead at the carnival today.  
"Morning," she replied with the hint of a blush on her cheeks. "Your bruises look much better today and the swelling's gone."  
"It certainly feels better," he told her.  
She laughed lightly. "Good, I thought it might have to be me that was gentle with you the week after next."

Angela's birthday. Instead of the usual sense of excited and nervous butterflies Patrick got when he was reminded of this, he got a sickly feeling to the stomach and he knew exactly what it was about: Eleanor.

He couldn't deceive this angel, especially when she was going to trust him with something this monumental (even if she didn't seem to think it was). Sure, she already knew about the first time but he had no idea what her feelings would be towards the fact he had slept with her friend again a mere fourteen days before Angela herself. Even though his intentions were good, Patrick felt despicable. If Angela did find out and get upset _after_ they had sex together, he couldn't imagine how she would take that or how that would make her feel. He wanted everything about that night and that memory to be absolutely perfect for her. Patrick knew, and he had considered many possibilities, that Angela had to find out before her birthday and it had to come from him. At least then if she was upset she could change her mind about it if she wished. If he did it now he knew he would have a little time to let her be mad at him and try and get past this by her birthday – he knew sleeping with her would be out of the question but he still wanted to make her eighteenth birthday perfect for her.

Patrick sat up, ignoring his body's painful protest against this movement, and pulled her closer to him to straddle his waist so that their foreheads were touching.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Patrick asked Angela with their lips barely two inches apart. "About loving me no matter what silly thing I do?"  
"Yes," she whispered back breathlessly and he wondered why _she_ was breathless and what she was possibly expecting him to tell her.

"I…had sex with someone yesterday…and I'm so sorry, Angel."  
Patrick determinedly held his gaze into her eyes to gauge her reaction. Angela's eyes widened in surprise and her smile faltered all together. Clearly, whatever she had been expecting wasn't that.

"Oh," she gasped simply and stared down at the hem of her overlong shirt/nightie. Patrick wished desperately that he could read her mind right now. "Why are you telling me?"  
He sighed and closed his eyes and pressed his forehead more firmly against hers.  
"Because you might find out from someone else and I can't let that happen."

It was as if a switch had flicked in her head and all trace of utter heartbreak left her face as she climbed off him and pulled her high waisted shorts with the suspenders off the floor and on to her legs.  
"I don't think you sleeping with a woman is groundbreaking news around here so no one would talk about it. And what does it matter if I do know or don't know who you're doing or how frequently? It's no surprise."

Patrick was startled at her lack of caring. "I just thought you wanted…that we should wait…"  
"I never said you needed to wait, Patrick," Angela said still not looking at him as she buttoned up her shirt and pulled her suspenders over her shoulders before tying her Converses up on her feet. "Don't feel bad. We're not together and you haven't done anything wrong."

Angela picked up her keyboard and a stack of paper from her desk.  
"Angel, it was Eleanor."  
The instant he said it, he knew (from last night's experience with the shoes) he probably should have waited til Angela had something a little less heavier than a keyboard in her hands. He saw her resolve crack again and it was just total agony.

"Eleanor?"  
"Yes, I'm sorry, Angel. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen…"  
"No…"

Angela set her keyboard down and shakily sat on her chair. Patrick was kneeling in front of her in an instant and she was trying to fit together the impossible pieces.  
"No, you wouldn't do that," she said to him, trying to breathe through the winded feeling in her chest. "I know you. You would never do that."

"Angel," he took her hands and looked into her eyes sincerely. "I never wanted to hurt you. It's my fault, I should have been more firm and said no and trusted in you. She threatened to tell you about the first time if I didn't and I…I can't lose you. I should've trusted you to know better though, Angela. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"She what?" Angel said, swaying slightly.  
"Angel, are you…"  
_"That bitch!" _Angela nearly shouted and ripped her hands out of Patricks and stood up from her chair so fast she knocked it over. "WHAT SORT OF PSYCHOTIC PERSON BLACKMAILS SOMEONE INTO HAVING SEX WITH THEM?!" She was waving her arms around and he tried to hush her. "AND SHE KNOWS HOW I FEEL ABOUT YOU. Urgh, that coprophagous fop!"

He would've been impressed at her literary use of her insults but was still trying to replay what she said before that. She grabbed her keyboard off her desk again, planted her pin striped hat firmly on her head (clearly she meant business) and stormed out of the room. After hastily pulling his jeans on, Patrick tried chasing after her but was confronted by Jonathan in the hallway. "Where are you going, honey?" Jonathan asked as she stormed out of the trailer into the rain with her keyboard over her head.  
"TO SLAP A BITCH WITH MY KEYBOARD!"

Jonathan's eyes followed her in terror and confusion and he spat his coffee out when he turned around and saw a shirtless Patrick Jane, still doing up the zipper and buttons of his pants, running out of Angela's bedroom behind her. Danny popped his head out from his bedroom doorway.

"Hey Patrick," Danny waved enthusiastically as Jonathan had a look of absolute shock at Patrick who quickly followed her with a sincerely apologetic look at her father. It was raining but he could faintly see most of the carnival workers were out, running around and trying to get their stalls from getting wet.

He knew he was attracting a lot of strange looks, probably because of his attire (or lack thereof) and he was shouting after Angela over the noise. Pete wasn't even surprised at the two. His expression clearly stated 'I'm too old for this'.

Patrick ran his fingers through his hair trying to get the wet blonde curls from getting in his face and he chased her. She was still holding her keyboard on her head so he caught her waist and lifted her up slightly.  
"PUT ME DOWN PATRICK JANE!" she yelled at him. He planted her on her feet and spun her around and looked down at her.

"How do you feel about me?" he asked loudly over the rain.  
"Really, Patrick?! That's what you are concerned about right now?" she asked furiously from under her keyboard. "You've been violated and I'm going to go bludgeon one of my best friends for you!"  
Patrick knew in that moment that he was going to spent the rest of his life with this frustrating and incredible woman or at least chasing her.

"I love you," he shouted at her.  
"What?" she shouted back trying to hear him.  
"I LOVE YOU!"  
"I know, I love you too."  
Patrick shook his head. "No, I mean I love you in a Pete and Sam way."  
Angela looked at him completely confused and although he had taken her mind of committing murder with a music instrument, he was worried that he had blown it. Probably doing it this publicly wasn't the best idea either.

Angela reached up on her tip toes to press her lips against his and he stood there in utter shock for a few moments before recieveing her enthusiastically lifting her up so she could reach him better. Although his mind was preoccupied at the moment, he briefly noted Angela dropping her keyboard behind her with a crash to the ground, some of the workers cheering but most of all he heard Sam.

She cried out with happiness and ran out of her trailer, knocking Leslie to the floor in her haste. "My babies, finally!"

**I had a dream where Angela had her keyboard on her head and stood up on her tip toes to surprise Patrick with a kiss. I would have drawn it but I can't draw for peanuts so I made it the next chapter. Idk, I just need them. **


	9. Chapter 9

**So, it's currently 4am(ish) in Australia and this is the result of some extreme insomnia. It's more of a filler chapter as I didn't want to put anything too important in a chapter I wrote at this time of night but I still think it turned out pretty good so I decided to go out on a limb and upload it. If you don't like pointless chapters then let me know but if you do like it, let me know as well because it's a lot less embarrassing putting your stories and inner ramblings up when people tell you that they're not half bad **

There was always an anticipated lull in business around December time. In a way it was welcomed as carnies were able to travel to see their families, celebrate the Christmas festivities or get a headstart on preparing for next year's performances. Patrick Jane particularly despised the month. His father would usually disappear for weeks at a time at the end of the year, blowing their money and binge drinking his way through various towns. The Ruskin kids would go to Europe dutifully to see their grandparents and Jack would be with his family wherever the nearest church was as his family were deeply religious. Patrick would get frequent letters from them but it did little for the loneliness. So usually he would resort to his trailer and work on elaborate reading techniques and invest his head into psychology textbooks

However Patrick wasn't feeling particularly downtrodden about the usually gloomy month. In fact, he started believing that there might be some merit to people saying how December was a magical month. He skipped down the not very busy midway, expertly dodging the few marks that were disgruntled by the bitter chill, lack of amusements due to the weather conditions and probably the general stresses of Christmas time. He briefly stopped to surprise kiss Sam on the cheek on the balcony of her trailer, pull a reluctant Pete into a waltz and give Penelope's trunk a hug. The carnival folk, although being carefully detached, were still rather close-knit for safety so it was normal for news to travel fast. It was no real surprise that the reluctant carnival princess and psychic boy wonder were together. The real question most of the carnies asked when told this piece of information was: '_then what the hell were they before?'_

He drew the purple sparkly curtains back in the Boy Wonder tent to find his father who had his feet on the small round table, puffing smoke from his cigarette and having a whiskey.  
"Paddy, my boy," he said standing up, blowing smoke into Patrick's face who coughed slightly. "I was worried about ya when you didn't show up last night…"  
"Sorry, Dad," Patrick said. "I meant to talk to you about that, the reason I didn't come home…"  
"Then I hear the news, son!" Alex beamed, cutting across him. "You've got in with the Ruskin girl."  
"Her name is Angela," Patrick said flatly. "And yes but that isn't…"  
"I'm proud of you, my boy," Alex said proudly, clapping Patrick's arm. "I knew you could seduce her and now I hear you've nailed her!"  
Patrick's hands balled into fists. "Not that it is any of your business, Dad but I haven't _nailed_ her. I stayed there last night because a few of your poker boys roughed me up after my show. You need to pay them back Dad otherwise we've got trouble."

Alex waved his hand at Patrick. "Don't worry too much, Paddy. It's just cheap, harmless scare tactics. I've dealt with fellas like these before. They've got bigger fish to fry. They'll cut their losses and move on in no time."  
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Dad, these guys are serious."  
"Enough, enough," Alex put his hand up. "I've gotten us this far, Paddy. Don't start questioning me now, boy, we're a team. Now, we've got a dead day today so go make use of yourself."

Patrick muttered to himself angrily as he left. His father hadn't come close to ruining the feeling of pure ecstasy but he had definitely annoyed him. He grabbed a broom and start sweeping the sweet wrappers and debris that was inside the ghost train ride when he looked up and came face to face with an upside down Angela and nearly had a heart attack. She was hanging upside down from the beams by her knees like a monkey.

"Did you speak to your dad?"  
"Yeah, but he's not taking it seriously as expected. You should get down from there?"  
She crossed her arms and she swayed left and right with ease defiantly.  
"I've been doing this since before you could tie your shoes, psychic boy, I think I've got this."

He grabbed both sides of her face to hold her still and kissed her passionately until her legs went to jelly in a matter of seconds and her knees failed her. Patrick chuckled as he managed to catch her and place her on the floor the right way up.  
"That doesn't count," she complained with her hands on her hips. "You did that on purpose."

He pulled her waist so her body was against him and brushed her hair from her eyes.  
"I was just kissing my girlfriend?" he said innocently and hoped it didn't show on his face how much it thrilled him to say that.  
It was dark in the ride but he could see her smile too and it dazzled him to the very core of his bones and he kissed her again and again. Only pausing to kiss her neck in order to let her breathe.

Patrick's knees started to go wobbly like hers had and he deliberately fell backwards into one of the carts and pulled her on top of him to which she shrieked in surprise. There she lay on his chest, trying to regain control of her breathing while listening to his rapid heartbeat. He closed his eyes and stroked her silky hair, still trying to believe that she was real and she was here.

"I've wanted this for so long," he admitted. "To be with you. I'm going to go crazy when you're in Paris."  
She played with the buttons of his shirt. "I'm not sure I'll go to Paris this year."  
"Why?" he asked. "Not that I'm against the idea of you staying, but I thought you loved it."  
"I do," she said quietly, still fiddling with this buttons. "My grandparents are just starting to put a lot of pressure on me about taking over the business. And besides, I'd be leaving the day after we sleep together and I don't know what things are going to be like, you know, afterwards."

Patrick held her closer. "Don't worry about that, baby. You don't have to put a deadline on your virginity now."  
"What?"  
"You were worried about your next boyfriend finding it weird you were a virgin and not knowing what you're doing. That's not an issue anymore," he kissed her head. "We can wait for six months…a year…our wedding night. Hell, we can live in celibacy for the rest of our lives if that's what you want."

Angela's heart stuttered at his offer. Men like Patrick Jane belonged in books and movies. Not underneath mediocre carnival girls.

"No, I still want to, please," she said and then sat up slightly. "Unless you don't want to and that's ok-"  
It must've been a magician thing but somehow she ended up on her back, underneath him with her arms pinned above her head in about two seconds.  
"Oh, my angel," he said, kissing her wrists. "I would make love to you this second if my lust outweighed my love for you right now."

He reluctantly got off of her and offered her his hand to get out which she, by his surprise, took.  
"What would you like to do today, girlfriend of mine?" he asked and he felt that thrill of adrenaline would never get old.  
"_I've_ got a carnival to decorate," she said with her hands on her hips and then looked at his broom. "And _you_ have chores. Don't think because you're dating 'carnival royalty' that you get out of work," she cupped her hand like the queen to wave goodbye to him.

"Dating implies I've been allowed to take you on a date."  
"You're right. You can pick me up at 7."  
"7:30," he narrowed his eyes at her and knew she was playing him.  
"Fine," she smiled.  
He looked at her for a few moments suspiciously.  
"Did you just set up me asking you on a date?"  
"You're the mentalist, you tell me," Angela said and turned on her heel to leave. "And you missed a spot!" she called behind her.  
"Hey, you're right," Patrick said and brushed the broom over a clump of broken spider webs and dust that was hanging on the ceiling of the ride directly above her so it fell into her hair. She shrieked and ran from the ghost train, swearing at him as she went.

000

Jonathan Ruskin, like Patrick in some regard, also took the uneventful December opportunity to become secluded and catch up on all the paperwork that accompanied being in charge of a carnival empire. Though there were upsides to December for him. For instance, his daughter, the light of his life had been born and he made the careful planning of each birthday of paramount importance annually. Not to mention, the coming of winter meant she would have to encase her legs in proper pants rather than those little high waisted abominations that left little to young men's imaginations which could only be an improvement in Jonathan's eyes.

Jonathan went into the trailer, attempting to flick through various magazines of Sam's in order to find a nice dress that a not-so-average eighteen year old girl could wear to her surprise party. It was difficult though as the kid had such a bizarre sense of style. He glanced up for a moment when he entered his kitchen and had to double-take to make sure he hadn't wandered into the wrong home.

Tinsel was wrapped and draped around every handle and hook, fairy lights twinkled from the curtain rods and ceremoniously placed festively coloured bowls of bulbuls, painted pinecones and candy canes littered any flat surface. His son walked in behind him with a look that was certainly not amused. He had reindeer ears on, tinsel was draped around him like a scarf and he tinkled when he walked.

"She tied bells to my shoelaces, Dad," Danny said. "Bells."  
Angela then waltzed in, spinning this way and that with armfuls of tinsel, humming some kind of tune.  
"Hello, Daddy!" she exclaimed happily. "Isn't everything just fantastic?" She roped him in with a long piece of gold tinsel and spun him around twice before kissing his cheek and waltzed out of the room again like the sugarplum fairy.

He had a bad feeling about this and followed her to her room and rapped three times on the door softly.  
"Come in!" she said chirpily.  
She had collapsed on her bed, hugging her pillow to her chest. Jonathan sat down beside her warily.

He noticed certain things that were different about his daughter this evening. Besides the strange mood, her soft curls had fallen and been arranged in an organised and careful manner and her cheekbones and lips seemed a slightly few shades redder than usual. Jonathan then noticed the extra mess that had joined the usual mess on Angela's floor. Hairbrushes, shoes, hair ribbons and every outfit she owned seem to be emptied on to the floor, flung over her desk, chair and mirror.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked.  
She sat up quickly, positively glowing and he sincerely prayed to god that it had nothing to do with the half naked boy running out of her room this morning. "I'm brilliant, Dad."  
"Right," he said slowly. "Not that I'm complaining about the improvement in your mood, the extra messiness of your room is nearly worth it, but what's going on?"

"I'm going on a date tonight, Daddy."  
He should have known. This thing again.  
"Are you back on with that Rory kid again? Oh, please don't tell me it's the O'leary boy or I'll jump out of a window, Evangeline, I really might."  
She laughed and Jonathan noticed it was the first genuine one he'd heard in a few years.

"No, it's Patrick."  
Jonathan's blinked a couple of times and tried to keep calm.  
"Patrick. Oh, I thought you two…were…friends. Remember, baby, that's why you were allowed to go to his place so many times and I didn't disembowel him this morning because you were only friends."

"We were but I guess its different now."  
"Something happened last night, didn't it?" Jonathan said hysterically. "I knew it."  
"Nothing happened, last night Dad," Angela said, putting her hand on his shoulder.  
"Okay," Jonathan said, knowing that Angela would be telling the truth. "You need to be careful, baby, Patrick Jane…well, you know I don't put much stock in gossip but even I can't deny that his reputation is-"

"Daddy, no," Angela said putting her hand over Jonathan's mouth and starting talking a million miles an hour. "I know that too, Dad and I know what you're worried about and I'm freaking out too because I have no idea what I'm feeling because I'm feeling things I've never felt before and sometimes it's really simple and straightforward and then it's really complicated and hard to understand at the same time and I feel like it's just too many feelings for a seventeen year old at the moment so I should just do what feels right and this feels right even though I'm going to over analyse everything when I get home. But I'm trying not to think about all that stuff and just focus on how happy and excited I am at the moment because it's been so long since I've been this happy about something, Dad so surely that means something doesn't it? Well, I hope it does. I just really want to look nice and not spill something on myself or sneeze while I'm eating or start to cry while I'm with him because I'm so messed up. And I know you have to be my Dad and you have to tell me all the negatives but please, please, please just put that aside for the moment and tell me tonight's going to be alright?"

She slowly removed her hand and Jonathan was sitting there dumbfounded.  
"I don't know what any of that meant," he admitted.  
"Trust me, I got this?" she amended for him. Living with two men her whole life gave her plenty of practice at this.  
Jonathan gave her the thumbs up and went to ruffle her hair before quickly taking his hand away, remembering the effort and care she must've taken.  
He stood up and opened her bedroom door.  
"Angela," he said and she looked up at him in surprise that he was using her preferred name.  
"Yeah?"  
"You look beautiful. And tonight's going to be fine."  
"Thank you, Daddy. I love you."  
"I love you too, kiddo."


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone, sorry I've taken a while to update but here's the next chapter. If you get the chance, please check out my profile on here. I've linked some fantastic Angelick fan art done by AC Mae and tomorrow I'm going to link a couple of pictures of the girl I imagine playing Angela when I write and also some of the outfits I describe her wearing. Just stuff like that so check it out sometime if you're interested.  
Sorry about the poor editing, I've cranked this out at 3:30am. **

Angela Ruskin was by no intents or purposes, avaricious like most carnies or many teenage girls. Her family certainly had money, yes. A fact she was constantly reminded of when she had to go see her grandparents who owned another successful, money-making carnival in France without even having to leave their Parisian townhouse. Angela could see Danny was gruesomely appreciative of the lifestyle that was waiting for him when he was older whereas the idea always made her feel nauseous when she thought about it. Perhaps it was the daunting task of inheriting all of this one day. Though since her father was so young, that probably wasn't something she needed to worry about for a few more decades and even then Danny would be better suited to the role. She always felt that she didn't fit in the carnival world but it was no better in the upper class world her grandparents tried to conform her to either.

Her grandparents and father tended to dote on her with sparkly jewellery, chic make-up and perfume and expensive clothes. She accepted her gifts politely but could never bring herself to put them to any use since all she could think about was the fact the money spent of them was earned by carnies that probably were struggling to put food on the table. Not to mention, what they chose was not her style at all. Angela suited high waisted shorts, polka dots, plaid shirts, skater skirts and retro stripes. Even though she wasn't particularly girly, her frequent visits to second hand stores and late nights repairing and making clothing out of materials she found had left her drawers bursting with clothes. She usually ripped the tags off of her new clothes and gave the cashmere sweaters, fur laced coats, silk blouses and lacy dresses (that could put a family in groceries for a fortnight) and mixed them in with scarves and gloves she had knitted herself and gradually gave them to families that had younger girls by telling them that she didn't wear them or they didn't fit her anymore. The beauty of it all was that the parents didn't even realise or care about the brand or material of the garment, they were just grateful their child might have something warm to wear when it got cold.

Angela suspected her father knew about this but didn't say anything since he seemed to accept her strange behaviour when it came to this lifestyle. She wished her grandparents and other carnies felt the same way. Ruskin's were supposed to be poised, elegant and put themselves above the other carnies. Apparently, that's what Rory, her last headache, had been expecting. Another relationship that had been fuelled by a family's mistaken belief that setting up their son with her was a one-way ticket to the carnival kingdom. Luckily, they tended to decide fairly quickly that she wasn't the polished princess they had been expecting and too much of a handful before she invested too much of her time in them. None of her previous dates had made it past the '_that was worth shaving my legs for_' stage and her date outfit selection process went with whatever was clean and not too crumpled. Tonight, though, was a different story entirely.

She was on the floor throwing every garment over her head, groaning and complaining to herself loudly as she did so. Her father and brother's responses just made her more frustrated. Men just didn't understand that having lots of clothes and having something to wear were two entirely different things.

Angela eventually picked a red and blue plaid tank top and a long and flowy high waisted sky blue skirt that Patrick had once complimented her in when they went ice-skating. She found a red pair of wedges that didn't look half bad and tied her hair back into a ponytail with a red ribbon. It wasn't particularly glamourous but she felt girlier and cuter than her usual self so that could only be an improvement.

She heard a loud knock on the front door and the distinct shuffle of reluctant feet getting up off the couch. "I'll get it!" she yelled as she detangled herself from the strap of her handbag that had worked its way around her ankle inconveniently as she ran down the hallway. "I'LL GET IT!" she repeated again and used Danny's head to balance as she climbed and leapt over the couch to the door. She ducked under fathers arm to reach the door first. "I said I got it, Dad!" she scowled as both their hands got to the doorknob at the same time. There was a thirty second stand off as they both glared at each other, unrelenting before Jonathan slipped his hand off of hers and into a fist at his side. He sulkily took his position over in the corner of the room with his arms folded uncharacteristically. He had been a little suspicious of the boy for a while now especially since he and Angela spent every breathing moment together. He had dealt with the sleepovers; the long car rides and even whatever had been going on in her room last week only because Angela swore to him that Patrick was in no way interested in her. But now he could feel his usual carefree attitude starting to dissipate now that this nineteen year old boy warm-blooded male was interested in his daughter that he had stupidly let run wild with the boy for a long time now.

Angela took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore her heart which was thudding loudly and the butterflies that were bursting inside her stomach. She opened the door and saw him standing there, positively beaming at her.  
"Hello," he said to her and she felt her knees go wobbly. It was silly that this boy, the boy who she had been friends with for years, gone on countless trips with and had even seen her naked, suddenly made her feel this nervous now. Maybe it was because this was a date and therefore a social setting that they had not really engaged in with any romantic connotations with each other before. Or it could have been how he'd worked extra hard to make his hair neat and failed. Though, she suspected her body was reacting in most to the way he was looking at her right now.

"Hi," she said looking at her shoes, trying to sound nonchalant but noticing how her voice sounded strangled. Patrick returned Danny's enthusiastic greeting and politely said hello to Jonathan whose reply seemed more forced and not as warm as usual.  
Patrick wasn't used to this distrusting, disapproving Jonathan though he welcomed it graciously knowing that if there was any man whose love for Angela could compare to his, it was Jonathan's. It was only natural for his demeanour to change as Patrick and Angela's relationship changed. Patrick revelled in the knowledge that Jonathan had nothing to worry about but then remember he was planning on deflowering Jonathan's precious daughter in a matter of days and suddenly felt a little guilty around the man.

"I got you something," Patrick told Angela, reaching into his pocket and Jonathan swore if he saw the smallest hint of a ring box he would break the boy's knees before he could get down on one. His hand returned in a fist which he circled majestically with his other hand before flicking out a candy apple wrapped in brightly coloured plastic. Danny was dutifully impressed and amazed as ever whereas Jonathan rolled his eyes and joined his son back on the couch.

"Thanks," Angela said with a smile.  
"A little less conventional than flowers."  
"Well it smells just as good and I can eat it and I like eating things," Angela said closing the front door. "So all in all, a good new convention…you could work on your presentation a little, though. I could do that trick when I was five," she teased as she jumped down the stairs, her ponytail and red bow bobbing energetically as she did so.

Patrick jumped down ahead of her and took her by the waist to lift her off the last step, making sure to twirl her once so her skirt did the spinny thing. He set her on her feet and placed a kiss on her forehead.  
"You look beautiful tonight," he told her and grabbed her hand to quickly escape the busiest hour of the carnival.

The car was better and worse than Patrick was expecting. Better because there were no awkward silences as they chatted as they usually did but worse because it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to be within this proximity to Angela Ruskin, trying to believe the reality that she was here with him, looking absolutely beautiful and on a date with him. Patrick had scoured the local newspaper and found out that Angela's favourite movie was playing as some kind of Christmas movie week at the local outdoor cinema.

He wished he could've done something a little more special and a little less clichéd as a movie but he knew how much Angela was fascinated by it all. Movies, street crossings, park benches, aeroplanes, mortgages, schools…

She was fascinated by any form of normalcy. The everyday, pedestrian life of marks. Patrick wasn't sure why she felt this way, but he adored it. They arrived at the small park and Patrick got out a blanket and a bag from his car. They walked down the lane that was lined with trees that had a line of lightbulbs strung across them.

"_What a Wonderful Life_ is my favourite movie!" Angela informed him in amazement as the movie title was written in loopy script on a blackboard next to the portable ticket booth. Angela felt very strange to be on the other side of a booth but it was a good feeling.

The oncoming of twilight brought the pink sky to a purple and Patrick was attempting to prevent his breath being taken away by Angela who was looking at the inflatable screen, the trees, the lights and the other people in curiosity and amazement while she nibbled on her candy apple.

Patrick lay the blanket down on what he thought was an appropriate spot on the grass and Angela sat cross-legged next to him, practically bouncing. He had only seen this movie once and barely remembered it since he was seven and his Dad had sat him in front of the television to watch it once Christmas eve so he could go out. All he remembered was that it was in black and white.

One of the perks about growing up at the carnival was unlimited supply of junk food so Patrick had gotten popcorn, cotton candy, donuts and two bottles of homemade lemonade and laid it in front of them as the lights dimmed as the sky got dark enough for the movie to begin. Angela's bites from her candy apple became fewer and far between as the introduction of the movie progressed. Patrick followed the introduction rather well. The main character, a man who had sacrificed his dreams and happiness to help other people was attempting to commit suicide on Christmas Eve as he believed he is worth more dead to his family than alive due to the life insurance that would save them when his guardian angel showed up.

It seemed an appropriately festive heart warming tale but Patrick was curious as to why Angela was so attracted to it. Patrick glanced at her to see her holding her bag of popcorn close, as if it were a security blanket while he stifled his smile. She was watching adorably fascinated, and he discreetly watched her through his peripheral vision. When Angela caught him, she'd glare and motion for Patrick to look at the screen.

In the movie, George, the main character, was talking with his love, Mary. "What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary."

Angela mouthed along the script effortlessly and her warm hand found his in the dark. She unwound his tight fist and spread out her warm small hand that fit into his palm easily. She didn't take her eyes off the screen as he pressed a chaste kiss to her hand and covered her shoulders with an extra blanket he'd brought along as her chilly breath was visible.

She leaned forwards so she was lying on her stomach, leaning on her elbows so she could rest her face in her hands. Patrick played idly with her ponytail while watching George and Mary go through all the trials of life.

The movie began to wrap up with the guardian angel showing George, who wished he had never been born, what life would be like for his family and friends if that in fact been true.

"_Every man on that transport died! Harry wasn't there to save them, because you weren't there to save Harry,"_ the angel said. "_You see, George, you really had a wonderful life. Don't you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?"_

Patrick glanced back at Angela and was surprised to see tears sparking on her cheeks like diamonds that she wiped away quickly with her fingers. At first he assumed that it was a touched reaction to this man realising how much people loved him and how wonderful his life was until Patrick remembered Sam telling him how Angela's mother had died and he felt his heart sink horribly.

Angela determinedly kept her eyes on the touching traditional family scene with a happy wife and husband surrounded by their loved children around their Christmas tree. The ending credits began to roll and couples packed up and filed out of the park within a few minutes. Patrick pretended to busy himself with packing up their belongings so Angela could lie there and rub her eyes in privacy.

He tentatively rolled her on to her back and despite, the slight puffy redness of her eyes, she smiled mesmerisingly at him.  
"Did you like it?" she asked.  
"I did," he admitted and leaned next to her on one elbow so his other hand could caress her fingers that had settled on her stomach. She played with his hand distractedly, tracing the shape of his fingers and measuring the size between his and her own.

Angela glanced up and noticed he was still looking at her. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her face to kiss him. Her lips tasted of toffee, apple and lemonade. She went back to playing with his hand and they talked about the movie a little more. "I like the end," Angela said quietly. "When he decides to live and he is happy with his family."

Patrick brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and traced her lips with his thumb. "You're going to have that all too one day."  
Angela's eyes welled up against her will and she tried smiling. "You really think so?"  
"Sure," he said. "Look how great you are with looking after your family now."  
She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying and making an absolute fool of herself.  
"Thank you," she said and could feel tears falling underneath her eyelashes and betraying her. "I've tried really hard to look after them since mum died. But it's really hard sometimes."

"I know," he said, brushing her tears away with his thumbs and holding her face. "You know how much you mean to me, right? How much you mean to everyone?"  
"I didn't mean that much to her though."  
"You know she loves you, my Angel," he said, kissing her palms.

"She got trapped into this lifestyle because she got pregnant with me," Angela started to cry silently. "She hated it here so much and was so trapped that she…"  
Patrick held her face more tightly in his hands and leaned so their foreheads were touching.  
"Don't you ever think it's your fault, my Angel," he said seriously. "She loved you. And so do I. Your existence was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I love you so much, my darling," he kissed her forehead. "You're going to have an amazing life, baby, I promise."

He pulled her up into his warm embrace and held her close.  
Patrick brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're safe here, you can cry if you need to."  
He felt helpless as he stroked her hair while she sobbed into his chest, telling her to let it out and reminding her every few minutes that he loved her and that everything was going to be okay.

Angela eventually pulled back and wiped her eyes looking frustrated at herself.  
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not usually like this when I got out on dates."  
He smiled and playing with that wayward strand of hair by her face again.  
"Don't ever apologise," he told her. "I've had the most amazing time with you...as always."

She smiled and he felt his heart crack somewhat. He was pretty good at hiding his emotions but he couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to constantly put on a happy face for your family and everyone else when you were this miserable. He left the urge to pack her in the car and take her far, far away from everything.

The park was completely dark and empty except for the brightness of the stars and the sounds of crickets while they talked light-heartedly about everything else. Angela told him her favourite quote from the movie was when George told Mary he was going to give her the moon and Patrick rolled his eyes.  
"It's sweet!" she said defensively, shoving him in the arm and he laughed.

He cleared his throat nervously. "We should probably, um, think of a story to tell your dad about where you're staying on your birthday night. Since I don't think he's exactly going to let you sleep over with me anymore."

"Oh, that's true," she said thoughtfully. "I'm sure I can think of something. Where are we going exactly?"  
"It's a surprise, Evangeline," he teased and pulled her closer to him.  
She frowned in disapproval so her nose scrunched up and he kissed her softly.

Patrick wasn't sure how the soft kisses gradually built up to more passionate, more fervent kissing but they somehow got there. Patrick ended up on his back with Angela on top of him. Her fingers were knotted in his hair as he pressed eager, open mouthed kisses to her neck and shoulders. His hands pulled at her top, untucking it from her skirt before pulling it over her head with help from the fluid movements of her body. He rolled over so she was underneath him and trailed kisses along her stomach, admiring the contours of her body in the moonlight. Somehow, his vest and shirt ended up in a crumpled heap next to them as they rolled around on the blanket, kissing and exploring each other's bodies with hungry and impatient longing. Patrick was worried he was going to think 'to hell with it' and take her virginity tonight if she were willing but they were interrupted by a flashlight and a shout of angry yelling from the groundskeeper who had come to pack up the screen and gates.

Patrick managed to scoop his bag and Angela up all in the blanket and carry her while running down the path to the car. Both were laughing and short of breath (although there was no running done by Angela herself, the activities were energy sapping enough) when they got into the car and Angela pulled her top back on before Patrick could admire her lacy blue bra in better light.

He held her hand and drove with the other down the empty streets to the carnival while they talked conversationally. Patrick felt her hand go limp in his and her sentence drift off into an inaudible ramble. He glanced over and she had fallen asleep.

Patrick smiled and pulled into an empty space near her home. He shut the door quietly after making sure in the mirror that the lipstick on the corners of his mouth were wiped away, his vest was straight and flattened his sex hair. Gently, he scooped her out of the car and walked to her front door, still breathless from the sheer perfection that lay in his arms, snuggling against his chest and clutching a handful of his shirt.

He fumbled slightly, reaching the key in her skirt pocket and opened the door quietly. Jonathan was asleep on the couch with the television still on, obviously waiting for her to get home. Patrick quietly walked down the hallway and placed her on the bed. She let out a heartbreaking whimper as he adjusted her quilt around her. He slid off his jacket and tucked it under her cheek like a pillow and she nuzzled into it softly with a smile now present on her face.

Patrick smiled too, kissing her cheek and murmuring goodnight to her.

**Angela's birthday up next! /forever coming up with ways to keep this fic going as long as possible because it's too sad to end :'( **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi, sorry for the delay. It's exam week at Uni where I am so it's taken a while to pump this one out. So enjoy **

It was very late when Angela climbed into bed, finally having finished helping Danny pack for Paris. Jonathan was half thrilled and half concerned at his daughters request to stay home for the holidays. Thrilled because he loved his daughter and rarely got to spend time with her with how busy their lifestyle was. Not to mention it would be the first time he got to have her for her birthday since she was five. Concerned because he knew how she felt about the carnival and usually counted down the days til she could leave for Europe each year. He couldn't help but accept the fact it was probably the Jane boy's doing, even if indirectly. Although, Jonathan wished the boy hadn't been such a philanderer, he couldn't deny his daughter's uplifting spirit lately and Patrick seemed to adore her enough to hopefully stick to just her.

Angela knew her father was running out of reasons to hate Patrick. The way she saw it, she was already doing better than her parents. They had gotten pregnant with her when they were sixteen. It was customary, she knew, for him to at least attempt to disapprove in any way. Especially when the poor man had Sam raving about Patrick at any given moment like a rabid fan girl. She was over at that moment altering a dress while Jonathan and Pete played cards at the small kitchen table. Angela would've joined them (and robbed her father and Pete blind at cards) but she was attempting to sleep in the hope she would have enough brain cells left to concentrate on going to her party tomorrow with any semblance of grace (she knew full well in the shoes Sam had given that was not going to happen but at least being conscious may have improved her chances even in the slightest).

Her party had been moved forward since Danny and most of the folk were leaving on Christmas Eve (her birthday) so Jonathan had moved it to the twenty third. It also meant moving another quite important event…  
Angela's mind wandered back to that and to Patrick and she knew now that it would be a long time before she could get her mind back on to sleeping knowing that she probably wouldn't be sleeping this time tomorrow night.

Angela was a sickly mixture of nervous and excited. Truthfully, she had no idea what she was doing. Not only with sex but with everything with her life at the moment. Sam had been a wonderful mother figure to Angela for most of her life and although she knew she could talk to Sam about anything, Angela knew that Sam was too in love with the carnival life to understand anything Angela was talking about. She reached under the bed where her guitar was and rested it on her chest as she lay. Her thumb went over the small indentation of the wood where her mother's initials had been etched in. She strummed it a couple of times quietly.

Quietly as it may have been, Sam had bionic ears and stormed into Angela's room a moment later with a handful of red fabric in one hand and a vicious looking pair of pinking shears in the other while telling Angela to put the guitar away before it ended up in the bin with the rejected parts of her dress fabric. Sam had not taken the sudden rescheduling of the party well and was rushing through the birthday dress renovations.

Angela wasn't the biggest fan of dresses but had to admit that the one Sam had made was beautiful. The only problem was the black lace of the underskirt. There was just too much of it. One the outside the red dress looked normal but underneath the calm, demure exterior an explosion had occurred and it didn't take a genius or a carnival worker that had known the girl long enough that no matter how many test runs they did, one of those slips of fabric was going to find it's place underneath Angela's heel at the opportune moment and Angela would end up in the laps of the one of the guests or if fate was feeling especially catty, knocking over a tent (it wouldn't be a first time). So that is how it came to be that poor Sam was up at nearly midnight, swimming around in lace and cotton.

Angela could only assume that Sam had completed this mission not longer after she had finally fallen asleep as when she woke up in the morning, her dress (now cut to just below her knee for safety with a much neater and invisible undercoat) was draped across her desk chair with a neat post it note. _I'll be there at 1. Be ready. _Even though Angela knew that Sam only wanted to make Angela's party perfect, this sounded a lot like a threat than a favour.

While thoughtfully constructing herself a shampoo mohawk in the shower, Angela realised with a nervous flutter in her stomach that she should probably shave her legs again even though she had done yesterday. She was on the floor of the shower with her legs bent in an all manner of ways for her to fit, meticulously doing her knees when a loud bang on the door caused her to jump and slice too deeply.

"You've been in there FOREVER! I NEED TO PEE!" Danny whinged loudly.  
"DANIEL, YOU STUPID SACK OF SIBERIAN SHEEP SHIT!" Angela yelled holding her stinging knee as blood mixed with the water and down her leg. She reached up and turned the water off before wrapping her towel around her and yanking open the door. Danny was holding his crotch, jumping from foot to foot and went to protest angrily but Angela put her hand over his face and pushed him backward.

"I'M PISSING OVER YOUR BOOKS NEXT TIME!" he shouted from the bathroom.  
"You okay?" Jonathan asked from her bedroom door as she angrily gathered garments of clothes from her floor with one hand and held her towel on with the other.  
"Brilliant, Dad," she said sarcastically. "Danny's made me cut my bloody knee."

He chuckled and told her to sit on the bed while he got a band aid. He knelt down on the floor in front of her and applied it gently.  
"There," he said satisfied. "Good as new. You won't even see it tonight."  
She was still frowning.  
"What's wrong, my darling?"  
"Nothing," she lied.  
"You can talk to me about anything you know that right?"

Angela bit her lip. "Tonight I'm going to be, um, I'm going…"  
"Yeah?" her father prompted.  
He saw his daughter hesitate and then change her expression. "I'm, um, going to probably stay with Sam tonight…after the party, you know, so don't be worried if I don't come home. We're going to watch movies and things."  
Jonathan searched her eyes and then stood up and ruffled her wet hair. "Alright, honey."

Even though Angela felt strangely compelled to tell her father what she was doing tonight just so she could rid herself of the nervous and excited butterflies building in her stomach was probably not the best idea. They'd always had a fortunate close relationship and didn't keep secrets but even they had their limits on certain discussions.

In a different time, she would've been able to ask Eleanor questions about it but their friend status had been revoked. Surprisingly to everyone (and especially herself), Angela had mustered all her self-restraint to not march over to the kissing booth, grab Eleanor by the collar and literally pull her out over the booth and beat her senseless with a bucket of cotton candy but instead decided that Eleanor had clearly suffered enough in her life to have ended up with that royally screwed psyche. Even with this, Eleanor had ignored her polite attempts since hearing she and Patrick were together despite Angela knowing what happened.

So Angela was left to seek advice from Sam when she arrived exactly at one o'clock and set up her workstation in the Ruskin's bathroom. Sam took this as an invitation to give a detailed analysis of her wedding night to Angela who sat in her chair helpless and becoming more and queasier each time Sam brought up Pete's magic hands on her virgin skin.

She craftily changed the subject to what Sam planned on doing today which spun into a lengthy synopsis of what beauty procedures Angela needed to undergo before tonight. Even though it was nothing compared to the sex talk, it still sounded rather terrifying. Angela though she knew a little bit about fashion and beauty. Of course, nothing to the degree of Sam who was easily the classiest and most stylish woman in the carnival. If fashion and beauty were a religion, Sam would be the worshipper at its alter and put together a little shrine with fabric clippings and pictures and say a little beauty prayer every night. Polyester would be her antichrist.

After an hour and forty five minutes in the bathroom being put through all sorts of unusual cruelty, Angela realised that she didn't know anything about beauty or fashion for instance manicures and pedicures were a specific circle of hell that no one bothered to mention in any scripture. Some of the metal tools that Sam kept pulling out of her bag looked more like a device designed to pull brains out through your nose rather than trimming cuticles and curling eyelashes.

Angela also discovered that if Sam asked her opinion on anything, the reply didn't actually matter. Even though Angela had a perfectly lovely pair of flats she found suitable, Sam spent a further twenty five minutes studying the extensive shoe collection (courtesy of her father and grandparents) before telling her to wear the Manolo Blahniks which had just as much impact to Angela as it would've have if she'd said it in Arabic. She also found out that a Manolo Blahnik wasn't a French dessert and it wasn't tasteful to joke about such things to Sam.

Danny watched in satisfaction (revenge for the bathroom incident) as Sam made Angela twirl this way and that in her red dress and the high heels. Angela didn't care what anyone said, high heels were in no way comfortable. They were right up there on the lengthy list of assorted agonies that females had to suffer though, directly between menstrual cramps and giving birth. Angela needed to pee desperately but the response was not dissimilar to if you asked for a potty break in the middle of a military training session.

She scrunched up her face and then relaxed all of her muscles and sighed in relief which achieved Angela's initial goal of freaking Sam out but the revenge came later when Sam refused to help her unzip her dress.

Angela getting caught hopping like a maniac to the bathroom while trying to rip her dress off by her boyfriend, father, brother and various carnival members that some bored demon who found her pain amusing planted in the kitchen for entertainment was not enjoyable. She attempted to slip from the bathroom to the sanctity of her bedroom without incident when Patrick caught her wrists and spun her around into his arms.

"Hey you," he smiled, his eyes dancing with excitement and all of her worries about tonight seemed to disappear in an instant.  
"Hi," she said and collapsed on her bed dramatically, muffling her face. He sat down next to her and rubbed circles into her back.  
"You're tired, aren't you?" he asked.  
"Mmm," she said barely coherently and turned her head so she could see him. Tired didn't begin to cover it.  
"You look exhausted, Angel."  
"Thanks," she glared sarcastically and he pulled her chin up so she was forced to look into his eyes.  
"Did you sleep last night at all?" he asked looking concerned and she shrugged.  
"Let me talk to Sam, Angel," he said to her. "You can get some sleep."

Just that idea alone woke Angela up faster than a bucket of cold water and she sat up on her knees beside him.  
"No!" she hissed, covering his mouth with her hand and glancing at her door. "Imagine the carnage, the bloodbath! Friend and foe alike would be slaughtered and there would be blood and taffeta everywhere!"

Patrick's chuckle cut across her melodramatic speech and he kissed her forehead and gathered her up in his arms.  
"I'm going to be a little late to your party tonight," he murmured against her hair. "I'm helping Pete with the animals and then need I need to go into town to pick something up but I will be there. Just leave your bag with clothes and things on your bed and I'll put it in my car when everyone's at the party."  
"Okay," she sighed contently playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. He kissed her lips twice and ran his hands down her smooth legs and tried to stop himself from groaning into her hair and stood up.

"Drive safely," she told him and he let go of her hand. "I love you."  
"Always," he smiled. "I love you too. I'll see you tonight."

Patrick was convinced that he wouldn't have even been a minute late to the party if he was able to drive at his regular speed but as pathetic as it sounded, it was damn near impossible to break a promise to Angela. Not to mention, he'd subconsciously been driving with more care than he usually took. Maybe it was because of the wet holiday season making the roads more slippery or maybe it was because he knew he had a damn good reason to live for now.

Predictably, his father had taken off a few days ago. Patrick noticed some not so friendly looking men hanging around his trailer and made sure to take a detour until they were gone. He would've been worried about this and his father's disappearance if it not for his father's money, a small stash of clothes and personal belongings that had also been hastily packed and taken. He knew Angela was more than willing to just stay at his place tonight and of course, it would make the night easier being alone but Patrick felt like this was something that they needed to do away from the carnival and away from anything to do with that life that made her unhappy. Not to mention, he didn't want Angela anywhere near those sorts of people that were looking for his father.

Patrick parked his car, leaving the engine running as he ran over to Angela's window and hoisted himself up and over the ledge and into her room. He landed silently on his feet in her room that she had left well lit for him (although had not left a safe path since he nearly killed himself tripping over he guitar). He rolled his eyes and sighed as he went about picking up things off her floor that she needed and forgot to pack. He unzipped her overnight bag to put in her hairbrush, toothpaste and shoes in when he noticed a blue box of protection sitting on top of her clothing.

He wasn't sure why he felt jittery and nervous. It was not as if he were inexperienced when it came to sex but this felt completely new. There were so many things that could go so horribly wrong or so fantastically right. It made him feel dizzy at the thought of her body being in his arms and rolling around with him in a few mere hours. Either way he knew making love to the reason for his existence was going to change him in some way.

Patrick cleared his head and grabbed her bag to take it back to the car. The loud music was audible as was the tipsy laughter and conversation. He nervously fidgeted with the package he'd carefully wrapped in silver paper decorated with snowflakes (it was impossible to find paper that wasn't festive themed this time of year) when he got out of the car and walked over to the party. There were a lot of people dancing and singing and the liquor was flowing freely.

Danny was giggling and hiccupping in a corner with some of the older carnival kids. Aaron was skulking about with his newest acquisition and Pete and Sam were dancing happily. It didn't take long for him to find her. She was sitting between Jonathan and Jack and gave Jack a hug after receiving his present: a vinyl record of Asleep by The Smiths.

Patrick had to hand it to Sam. He didn't believe it was possible for Angela to look more pretty than usual but she did look exceptionally stunning tonight. He cleared his throat and walked up to them, trying to ignore that his mouth felt like it was full of cotton every time he glanced at her.

"Ah, Patrick," Jonathan said. "Glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to make it…"  
He was interrupted by Angela giving him a swift kick to his shin under the table. Patrick had never seen Angela give someone else _the look_ before but he found it's magnificent and terrifying power was just as potent to behold second hand. She looked up and smiled at him and Jack moved over a chair so he could sit down.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said and kissed her cheek quickly. He heard Jack and Jonathan leave the table with a _whoosh_. "Are you having a good night?"  
"It's been good," she smiled and he noticed that her cheeks were rather red.  
"How much have you had?" he laughed and inspected her champagne flute.  
"This is my third," she said with a distasteful look. "It kind of tastes like lemonade. If you had left it out in the sun for a few days and a goat pissed in it. But it was a present so I'm trying to make a solid effort of it. If you put strawberries in it, it doesn't taste as bad."  
He knew she was nervous because she was talking fast and fiddling with things.

Patrick placed the small box on the table in front of her. "I know its a few hours early," he said. "But I think you've suffered enough as a Christmas baby."  
Angela could feel her father's eyes boring into her forehead as she unwrapped it and heard him hiss: "What is it? How small was the box? What did he give her? What is it?" to Sam who was holding Jonathan by the ear so he couldn't dare ruin anything for her. There was a tiny square card tied to the top of the jewellery box and she opened it and read: _You make my life wonderful._

Angela wrinkled her nose at him trying to ignore her cheeks getting steadily redder and warmer. She opened the box and inside was a simple silver bracelet with a charm in the shape of the moon linked onto it. "The moon," she said gently touching it.  
He shrugged. "Well, it seemed to work for George."  
She kissed him on the cheek quickly and gently punched his shoulder for good measure to distract herself from the tears that were pricking at her eyes.

Patrick gently attached the bracelet to her wrist as if she were made of china and kissed her palm before taking her hand and pulling her reluctantly to where everyone was dancing. It seemed customary that she had to dance with everyone and somewhere during _Come on Eileen_ with Pete did her ankles nearly give way in the painful contraptions she was wearing. Danny, who she assumed stumbled over tipsily to tease her, pressed a pair of her flats into her hand.

"I brought this from home, you know, for just in case…"  
Angela slipped them onto her feet and held onto Danny's shoulder for balance and kissed his forehead. "I love you, my darling brother. I knew you loved me too."  
He escaped her grip with a disgusted expression. "You walk like a Tyrannosaurus Rex in those things. I just didn't want to be associated with the girl who destroyed the carnival with nothing but a pair of high heels."  
"Lighten up, dummy," she teased and pulled him into a hug which he returned for a millisecond before wrestling away from her again but he left with a smile on his face.

Jonathan started transporting Angela's presents back to their home as the party started to dwindle. Sam, Pete and Patrick were clearing up some of the beer bottles while Angela nursed Danny who had passed out on a stack of hay. Jonathan came over and picked Danny up and put him in the car.

"Are you nearly ready to leave?" Patrick whispered to Angela and kissed her ear to which she felt her knees buckle slightly. She nodded and looked over to where Sam was talking to Jonathan, obviously corroborating her story of staying there, before giving them a thumbs-up. Patrick kissed her forehead and told her that he would bring his car around.

Angela felt her legs turn to jelly and the butterflies return as she picked up her handbag and jumped slightly as her father grabbed her arm softly.

"Sweetheart, can I talk to you for a minute?"  
"Sure," she said, hoping her voice didn't shake much as they walked. He was silent for a moment but had a pained and awkward expression on his face before he turned to talk to her.

"I love you, baby, but you can't lie to save your life. I know you're not staying with Sam tonight."  
Angela went to open her mouth but Jonathan put his finger to her lips.  
"I know you're going with Patrick tonight and although I'm trying to pretend otherwise, I'm well aware of what that means. And I know you well enough to know better than to try and stop you when you've got your mind set and you're an adult now so you can make your own decisions. So, I put a box of condoms in your overnight bag…"  
"Dad, oh my god," Angela moaned, closing her eyes and wishing the ground would disappear beneath her.  
"I'm being serious, Angela," Jonathan said with an uncharacteristically serious expression. It's not embarrassing, it's important. I can't stop you from doing what you want at this age but I can make sure you're being careful about it."  
She tried nodding because she was certain she would throw up over his shoes if she opened her mouth. It was that mortifying but she couldn't help but feel a bit of relief that her father knew and cared that much about her.  
"I've also put a cell phone in there too and I want you to call me if you need me to come pick you up at any time of the night. And I mean any time of the night, Evangeline, don't even hesitate. My phone will be in my hand until you get home."  
"Thanks, Dad," she said feeling an unusual lump in her throat as he pulled her into a hug which seemed to the longest one she could remember.  
"Love you kiddo," he said and ruffled her hair before going back to drive Danny safely home.

Patrick was exactly where he said he would meet her when she arrived and he took her hand. They were silent for a while as Angela tried to gather her thoughts. Patrick was nervous as well but knew as soon as her small hand slipped into his that there was nothing more natural in the world than them being together.

"Balloons," she said thoughtfully and kicked one that was in her path. "They're strange aren't they?"  
"Umm…"  
"Happy Birthday, here's a plastic sack of my breath," she laughed nervously and wished she could stop saying stupid things when she was nervous.  
Patrick chuckled as he opened the door for her and got in on the other side.

"Am I allowed to know where we are going yet?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.  
"You haven't been to Kansas since you were a toddler, Angel," he laughed and turned the radio down. "Even if I told you, which I'm not, it wouldn't mean anything to you."  
She frowned but couldn't maintain it for very long as the lights of the city lit up her windows. She was so fascinated by how beautiful it all was that she didn't even chastise Patrick for staring at her and not paying attention to the road.

"I love you," he told her and kissed her hand.  
"You better," she smiled, still looking out her window. "I shaved my legs twice for you."  
"I don't know what that means."  
"It means I love you as well, dummy."

**So I'm going to try my hand at smut in the next chapter. I apologise in advance. Stay tuned beautiful people. **


	12. Chapter 12

**So here's the chapter I've been putting off writing for a little while…my attempt at Angelick smut. Feel free to let me know if it's awful or clumsily written so I can improve or let me know if you enjoy it and I'll include some more lemons in chapters. Thanks to all the new followers that I've recently gained for subscribing! :D **

"Not that I'm unappreciative of Wichita's lovely public parks, it's very romantic really, but isn't this illegal?" Angela questioned, holding his hand as they walked across the park. He laughed quietly and could smell that it was going to rain soon so pulled her along before she could get too distracted by the pretty Christmas lights decorating the picturesque town.

He had to find a place that was just on the outskirts of the main city in the older part of town but it was still so intriguingly new to her that she was looking around with wide and inquisitive eyes. As soon as he'd parked the car down the street and let her out (after the "jumping out of the moving car in a fit of anger during an argument" incident a year ago, he'd started utilising the child locks on her side when he could get away with it), she had jumped out and ran down the street, dragging him behind her looking at every shop window, building and bench in amazement.

"They have a book store that's open all the time, Patrick!" she said excitedly and pointed to the neon sign, practically bobbing up and down on the spot.  
"That's an adult book store, Angel," Patrick said taking her momentary lapse in fierce independence to slip his black jacket on to her bare arms.  
"Like John Grisham books?" she wrinkled her nose and he laughed and kissed her hand as they continued walking past a crowded bar. He shouldn't laugh. This was like a different planet to her. How her grandparents kept her from running amuck and getting into all kinds of trouble in Paris was beyond him.

He held her hand as they walked down the parks pathway, worried that she might float away if he didn't keep her on the ground not to mention how naïve Angela was about how dangerous city people, or any marks for that matter, could be. It wasn't her fault, he knew, as she was the carnival princess so everyone since she was born had shielded her from it. Angela was holding her flats in her spare hand and enjoying swidging her toes in the slightly damp grass. Patrick was keeping his eyes out in front of her path for any syringes, broken glass and other unpleasantries that tended to be present in areas such as this but didn't say anything because he was elated at how happy she was.

It started to drizzle as he led her up the steps to the small hotel off a side street that his car couldn't possibly fit down. Even barefoot, she tripped over several uneven cobblestones. The reception room was very narrow but warm with a dusty chandelier, peeling wallpaper and a big display of tourism and backpacker information on the walls and a wilted sad looking Christmas tree in a pot in the corner. It wasn't nearly as good as what Angela deserved, Patrick thought to himself sadly. A bored-looking teenage boy with auburn hair sat at the end of the narrow entrance hall playing with his guitar with his feet up on the desk behind the booth.

"Name?" the boy asked monotonously in a British accent to Patrick without looking up from his instrument.  
"Patrick Jane," he said and the boy slid a key on a chain across the counter. Angela came over next to Patrick from inspecting all the brochures.  
"Is that a Fender?" Angela asked him and the boy looked up with an annoyed expression and then when he saw Angela his eyes widened and struggled to talk. If Patrick hadn't been so annoyed, he would've sympathised with the boy since he felt this way on a regular basis.

She leaned over the counter and looked at it.  
"Oh, it's a Yamaha. Good choice for a basic acoustic. Fender does amazing electrics but their acoustics are better for batting practise."  
"Urh, yeah I've heard that," he said nervously but didn't look away from her and put his guitar on the table. "You play?"  
"Yeah, on an old Taylor," she smiled while Patrick made impatient scuffling noises with his feet. "Are you from England?"  
"Urh, yeah, Manchester. You?"  
"Everywhere. My mother was born in England. It looks very lovely."

Patrick interjected before the boy could reply to her.  
"England's great. Guitars are great. Everyone's great. Let's go," he said taking the key and wrapping his arm around Angela's waist and lifted her up and away with him.  
She struggled to get free from his grip as he walked up the first blue carpeted crooked stair case with tinsel wrapped around the wooden banisters. He placed her on her feet when they reached the first landing.

"Are we done taunting the staff, Miss Ruskin," he teased. She looked scandalised and punched his arm.  
"I was not taunting! I was being polite! A concept I'd be more than happy to teach you."  
He laughed as they walked side by side up the next rickety staircase. Their room was on the top floor.

"Maybe that was your intention," he said. "But when you are totally unprepared and a beautiful girl in a stunningly sexy red dress with the most mesmerising eyes and smile you've ever seen just wildly appears out of nowhere and starts talking to you about guitars only to disappear to a room for the night with her boyfriend, it sounds pretty taunting to me. You're dangerous to our gender, Angela Ruskin. I don't want to be leaving a trail of broken hearts behind you all over Kansas before I return you back tomorrow."  
She jumped onto his back like a monkey and pressed a kiss to his neck. "You don't seem to think I'm very dangerous."  
"On the contrary," he said piggybacking her up the stairs. "I love you but I'm still terrified of you. I may very well end up being one of those broken hearts one day."  
He could tell she rolled her eyes. "You'd be fine. I can't imagine you being one of those broken-hearted people who take, like, ten years if not forever to get over someone. Like my father."

Patrick highly doubted she was right and hoped it would never come to that but didn't want to argue tonight even playfully. He put her down in front of the dark blue door with their number on it and wrestled with the sticky lock and key to no avail. Angela shrugged her backpack off of her shoulders and pulled a pin out of her hairdo and picked at it until it unlocked a few seconds after. He looked at her in fake shock and she rolled her eyes and whacked his shoulder again.  
"What?! If I'm going to have to put up with being a carnie kid for the rest of my life, I should be able to use the good stuff."  
Patrick chucked and opened the door. He tried to flick on the light but it didn't work however the twinkling festive lights that shone through the outside window illuminated the room enough to make things visible. The room was small but pleasantly decorated and it was very warm. He was suddenly reminded of the reason they were here and instead of getting lost in his suppressed fantasies like he usually did, he felt a flutter of panic spread across his chest that he hadn't felt before. Especially regarding this.

It occurred to him for the first time that he was going to hurt her and it was going to be unavoidable no matter how gentle, patient and careful he was. Angela dropped her backpack with a thump to the floor and shrugged his jacket off and laid it on the bed with comically comparative care. Even though Patrick needed her more than he had ever needed her before, he decided it was safer for him to stand next to the door and let her wrap her head around what was about to happen and give her a chance to think about if this is what she really wanted. Angela put one hand across her stomach and the other fiddled with her necklace as she looked around the room. _What are you thinking? _Patrick desperately wished to know.  
"It's quite warm, isn't it?" she said to him and the hand on her necklace moved to the side of her neck. He tried to answer but his mouth had become frustratingly dry. She walked over to the window, lifted it open and leaned out of it.  
"Be careful, Angel," he managed to get out and moved to stand closer to her in case she fell headfirst out of the window. It wouldn't have been the first time she had a window mishap.

She was absolutely breathless at how lovely the view was from up here. They could see all of Wichita. The lights, the tall buildings and the roads. The heavy rain that was pelting against the ground and building drowned out the muted city sounds of traffic, sirens and music and made the colourful scene look like a Van Gough painting.

Patrick noticed that she must've been warm despite the cool air outside as a bead of sweat had formed on the nape of her neck where her hair was starting to fall apart. He stepped forward against his will and wiped the bead of moisture away before wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss to the side of her neck. Her eyes drifted closed and her heart began to accelerate.

"Are you okay?" he asked mistaking her reaction for fear.  
"Yeah," she answered trying to be casual but her voice shook a little and she knew that he would notice. "I'm just a bit nervous."  
"You don't need to be."  
"I just…what if I'm bad at this…or I do something wrong?" she admitted her worries out loud and determinedly stared out the blurry open window.  
"You won't be," he told her. "You'll be fine, but if you are this nervous then I'm fine with not doing anything tonight. I'm with you because I love you, Angel. Nothing will change that."

He felt her tense body relax in his arms and spin around and he had to suppress a moan at how perfectly her body fit against his own and how natural it felt at this proximity.  
"Can I have a minute?" she asked and he let her go. Angela went into the small adjourning bathroom and splashed some water on her face to cool herself down. Unfortunately since she wore it so rarely, she forgot about the makeup Sam had applied to her face and she nearly died when she looked in the mirror and saw a streaky mismatched panda staring back at her.

Angela swore loudly and scrubbed at her face with a cloth hanging over the bath faucet until most of the offending cosmetics had been removed. She wished she had grabbed her bag off the bed and brought it in with her so she could brush her teeth and possibly fix her hair as the elegant up hairstyle she had done was unbecoming and there were tendrils and curls trying to burst out in rebellion all over the place. Super attractive.

Her heart was racing and she focused on her reflection in the mirror to try and get a hold of herself. Although she was nervous, it was outweighed by her excitement and the butterflies in her stomach felt more like fireworks at this stage. She examined her body up and down to see if there was anything she could do to fix herself up with what she had.

She ran her hands down her smooth legs and thanked god for how smooth they still were and ripped off the bandaid her father had put on her leg that morning. Angela underestimated how painful it was to rip the sticky strap off your skin and swore loudly again and had to assure Patrick that she was fine through the door. She knew if she spent any more time fussing over herself, Patrick would panic and break the door to make sure she hadn't smacked her head and was bleeding out all over the floor. It wouldn't be out of character for either of them.

She composed herself and smoothed out her dress before walking out to meet him again. Patrick was lying on the bed, still fully dressed but his vest was unbuttoned and his shoes were off. He was propped up by one hand and was flicking through a book from the small shelf next to the bed and smiled up at her to acknowledge her and went back to reading. It's was her virginity losing night and he was going to read a _book_?! He pulled another off the shelf, bored with the first, and started skimming it. Angela was ready to kill him.

"I've finished in the bathroom," she told him loudly. "So, yeah…I've finished."  
"Okay, Angel," he smiled at her and went back to browsing through the pages.  
She stood there awkwardly for a few moments longer, waiting for him to get on with it, but he closed the book, put it back on the shelf and chose another.  
Angela felt frustration well up inside of her and snapped.

"PATRICK JANE-!"  
His low laugh, dark and intense instead of its usual humour, interrupted her and he put the book on the bedside table and stood up from the bed. His eyes were all but burning with desire and Angela was fighting the urge to punch him in the nose for purposely dragging out the torture and wondered where he got the nerve and the unmitigated gall to play games with her now.

Patrick could feel her anger dissolve as he pulled her against him and kissed her face a number of times before reaching up to remove her hairpin and revelled in the feeling of her soft curls falling across his hand and down her back. He tucked the disobedient tendrils behind her ears to gain him better access to her face which he kissed thoroughly and passionately until her heart was all but racing against his chest. His kisses became deeper and more forceful and he pulled her even tighter against him as his hands gripped harshly at the fabric on her back.

Angela briefly wondered whether Sam would be capable of sewing the buttons back on Patrick's shirt as she hadn't had the patience to deal with them in the customary way of pulling them through the holes and instead opted for the ripping them all off at once and not giving a damn where they landed approach. Sam would probably string her up by her toes for such disrespect for clothing but it wouldn't be nearly as bad as Angela showing her the long tear down the back of her lovely dress. Apparently, Patrick hadn't had much patience for buttons or zippers either and removed his pants for good measure.

She felt him gradually push her backwards towards the bed however her legs were bound by her dress that was tangled around her ankles in a puddle causing her to topple backwards. Ideally, in her head, this could've replicated how they both fell onto her bed last time things had gotten this heated and it would've made for a cute and effective way of getting them to their destination. However, she was chronically unlucky and grace evaded her as she fell to the floor on her butt while Patrick landed harshly on his elbows trying to catch her in time.

Angela just wanted to die at the mental image of how ungraceful, unsexy and positively ridiculous she must look. Patrick leaned to kiss her forehead to console her adorable but grumpy expression however he couldn't help but laugh at how funny the situation had turned. Instead of being mortified and unhappy, she laughed as well and put her fist up to her forehead, wondering what crime she had committed in her past life to deserve this constant torture.

Patrick picked her up gently, hoping that in doing so he would deter her from maiming either of them before reaching the bed. Angela looked more relaxed than before as he lowered her to the bed in nothing but their underwear. Her eyes were wide, but didn't seem hesitant or nervous anymore and there was laughter and love in them now. The only sound was their uneven breathing and the heavy rain as he entwined his fingers with hers and lifted them on the pillow above her head and battled internally whether he wanted to start with her lips and work his way down or start with her toes and work his way up. It thrilled him that he had all night to explore the wonderland that was her body.

He brushed her long unruly hair back off of her face and neck, spreading it like a fan over the pillows and kissed her. She tasted sweetly of champagne and strawberries and the taste of her lips and mouth was so intoxicating that he spent a while gently tracing their plump shape, exploring her mouth and sucking delicately at her lips with deliberate drawn out slowness until he paused to let her catch her breath. She was gasping in short panting breathes through lips that looked slightly swollen and he cursed himself and frantically tried to recall if he had been too forceful against her mouth.

It seemed Angela was kind enough to answer for him and pulled him against her again. They tangled in his hair and pulled his face back to her. He reluctantly avoided her lips, afraid he might actually bruise them and desperately retained control over a portion of his mind. His lips, desperate for her taste, ended up behind her ear and trailed down the lavender and cream delicately scented skin of her neck.

He slid further down her body now, anxious to caress the rest of her. Patrick committed the sight of her bare ivory skin in lacy black underwear to his memory before removing her bra and marvelling at the sensation of her soft breasts in his hands.  
Slowly, he circled the rosy tip with his tongue and focused on the sound of her breathing over the pounding rain while his hands explored the plains of her velvety skin making sure he was paying attention to all her bodily responses in case she became hesitant or unwilling. Patrick moaned in his throat as he felt her gentle hands clenching and unclenching in the hair at the back of his neck. He looked up to her face to see her eyes were squeezed shut and her head was thrown back to leave her tantalising neck exposed. She was a vision of absolute sensuality and he burned the sight of her into his memory palace forever.

Patrick continued this with both of her breasts until she started to moan incoherently and her body started to shudder beneath him. He pressed her back down against the sheets and rained kisses over her neck to relax her highly stimulated body. She made a frustrated noise that made him smile against her skin and after a few soothing kisses and caresses, he continued down her flat stomach. Patrick paused the trail of his lips to dip his tongue into the dent of her belly button which caused her to squirm and he pressed an apologetic kiss over the ticklish spot (committing it to his memory for future reference) and continued down lower.

As he got dangerously lower, he could tell that she knew at that moment that he wasn't going back upwards and her knees instinctively tried to draw together but his body was lying between her legs and she was wonderfully unsuccessful.  
"It's okay, are you alright?" he asked her and she nodded but she was biting her lower lip and he knew that he needed to take this slowly. He pressed kisses to the inside of her thighs and let his lips slide slowly up until he was void of all rational thought. Patrick caressed the band of her black panties to silently ask her subconscious body's permission to remove them which was granted by her lifting herself up so he could slide them down her silky legs.

Keeping his eyes on her face, his hand slipped down between their bodies and her breathing became even more unsteady. His fingers brushed over the curls hiding her most secret and alluring area and slid through the folds that were unbearably warm and slick. Patrick could feel her pulse pounding underneath her skin and the vibration sang up his arm and spread heat to every cell of his being. He carefully moved his finger up and down the length of her to determine whether she was ready for him. His finger easily slipped just a little bit inside of her and she cried out deliciously in response.

A moan escaped his lips at the sound of her which was more luscious than anything he had dreamed. Holding her hips down gently, he slid his finger out and back in a little further to try and be sure that there would be as little discomfort as possible when his erection replaced his finger. The mere thought of this being put into action in only a few moments made his body become painful with anticipation and he took a moment to get a handle on his own lust. Tonight was about her and making everything perfect for her. He briefly considered this was also his life's purpose and he was more than happy to dedicate the rest of his life to this goal.

Patrick went back up to her face and kissed her hard on the mouth, stroking both sides of her face with care in contrast.  
"Angela," he said raggedly and love laced each syllable of her name. "You must tell me if you want me to stop. If it hurts too much…tell me okay?"  
"I will," she smiled at him and he felt his heart start to falter when he leaned down to kiss her and tell her he loved her more than anything in this world. Patrick reached down to the pocket of his pants on the floor where he unwrapped a condom and settled himself between her legs and shifted above her so that the part of him that was aching for her was pressed in against the scalding hot entrance of her body. He paused to take a deep breath and waited for her eyes to open and find his own. He saw his entire future in their sapphire depths.

He positioned his arm underneath her to hold her body and the other hand held her face so his thumb could still brush reassuringly against her cheek as he pushed his way in slowly and tried to ignore how amazing she felt already. She was unbelievably wet and warm and tighter than he'd ever experienced before. There were waves of shock and love coursing through him and he paused only briefly when he encountered an unfamiliar resistance inside of her. He captured her lips suddenly to hopefully let the surprise dull the pain when he broke through and pushed his entire length into her. Patrick felt Angela whimper quietly in surprise and bite down on his lip softly. He rested his forehead against hers and didn't dare move and looked at her to determine her reaction and it was clear despite her infuriatingly unreadable face.

Her eyes were shut tightly and her lips were slightly parted. Pain. He wished she would open her eyes so he could see how bad it was. If there were tears in her eyes, he would make the decision for the both of them to not continue and take her home if she wished.  
"Angel?" he said worried and started to brush her hair off her face with shaky hands. He was not coping well with the pain on her face and being the one that had put it there.

"I'm okay. I just need a second," she told him and ran her fingers along his back to ease the panic in his eyes. He kissed her forehead lightly and stroked her hair until she asked him to move. Ignoring his own urges to grab hold of her hips and make love to her as thoroughly as possible, he slowly pulled back marginally and moved forward cautiously.

Slowly and gently, he began to move more steadily and it was difficult to maintain such a slow pace because it felt more amazing then anything he had experienced or dream of experiencing before but he didn't want to inflict anymore pain on her. He hoped that her tightness, although being unbearably amazing for him, would subside to make it a little less uncomfortable for her and he worried that he hadn't taken enough time to prepare her. Patrick felt Angela's body relax a little more but her muscles were still slightly tensed. He knew this was a new and big experience for her body and she wouldn't find it overly pleasurable and comfortable the first time.

Angela let out a soft sigh to his relief and he could feel her body finally moving and raising her hips to meet his gentle thrusts. Her eyes were closed and she was chewing her lower lip as she adjusted to the many foreign different feelings that kept enveloping her body. "Can you move a bit faster?" she asked and he was more than willing to comply.

Pleasure gradually took over the pain in her face he noted as he rocked their bodies together, not forcefully but enough that the bed began to move with them. She kissed his face as he explored hers. Her nose, cheek, chin, ears, everything was so wonderful and a moan escaped his mouth. He bent her knee so he could move deeper and more comfortably inside her warmth. Angela began to cry out slightly, gasping at the air but never moving away from him. He lost himself in the rising and falling of her body which made him reach a new high he had never imagined. Angela's strawberry champagne breath washed over his face as her head tossed from side to side and it was so overwhelming that he froze for a second.

"Don't stop…Patrick, please.." Angela sighed out, sensing his hesitation but still gasping from the pleasure of it all as her hand gripped delightfully into the skin of his back.  
"I won't," he promised kissing her passionately on the mouth and resumed their rhythm. "Oh god, I love you, Angela…I…you're so…uh, oh Angela…"  
He felt his restraint begin to loosen and he went faster and deeper and if the noises she was making were any indication, it was far from hurting her. A few times through the cries of pleasure mixed in with the moans of his name, she told him to be closer and he was only too happy to oblige. Patrick still felt like they were too far apart even though they were one and he felt her teeth teasing his lower lip as she moved her mouth along his jaw line to his ear and whisper 'more, please' needlessly into his ear.

Patrick gently took her arms and rolled them to the side, keeping her tightly against his body and thrusting steadily as they continued to move around the bed, getting everything from each other and he knew in that moment that not being with this woman for the rest of his life would surely kill him. He pushed himself into her again and again and her sweet release was repeated with gasps and moans from the both of them. Patrick had no idea how up until now, he had lived without this and didn't think he could survive another night without her.

"Angel," he whispered when her ear was near his lips. He felt her body shake again and her moan his name as another orgasm racked her body and her hands gripping into his back seemed to push through his skin and radiate to his very bones with pleasure.  
"You're perfect…you're so beautiful," he whispered to her as he continued the assault of kisses on her neck. He could feel his pleasure beginning to heighten and knew he was close. Everything about this was better than any of his fantasies. Angela's movements, her sounds, her body, it was more than what he had dreamed it to be and he couldn't hold on for much longer.

Patrick waited for her muscles to tense up and her fingers pull desperately at his hair before he let his self control go and held her body against his while his free hand gripped a handful of sheet next to her head. He yelled her name as both their climaxes rocked their bodies and lights exploded in his eyes. Patrick had never been so physically and emotionally exhausted in this life. The experience was so surreal and foreign it had felt like it had been a first time for him as well as nothing he had ever done in his life had compared to that.

His body collapsed on top of hers which was also damp with sweat, taking his weight on his elbows. He unclenched his fist to discover he had torn the handful of sheet he was gripping on to and attempted to calm his frantic heartbeat and shaky breath by focusing on the rain and the feel of her fingers tracing patterns on his damp back that was probably going to be marked with little fingernail indents in the morning.

Patrick weakly lifted himself up to look at her face which was buried into his shoulder. She was panting as well and looked completely worn out but sufficiently loved and content. She had a tired but breathtaking smile on her face as she pressed a kiss to his neck. He knew he should ask her if she was okay or if she was hurt or tell her he loved her at least but he was not capable of producing words and instead just lay in her arms and hold her close, occasionally watching the twinkling lights bounce off her hair in a wonderful fashion.

"I love you, Angela Ruskin," he said when he managed to gain control over his body and let a limp dark curl wrap around his finger.  
"I love you, Patrick Jane," she said hazily but just as sincerely as her body began to settle into sleepiness. He felt her lower muscles relax around him but cursed internally when she still made a pained noise when he removed himself from her and disposed of the condom.  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said kissing her hair when he rolled next to her. "Are you hurting? Are you alright?"  
"Sssh," she shushed him pressing a finger to his lips as her body shape easily settled into his own and she snuggled into his hot chest, grateful for the cool rainy breeze the window let in. "Stop fussing. I'm more than alright."  
Truthfully, her whole body was aching especially in areas she hadn't known existed but it was nothing compared to the warm and bursting feeling that was taking residence in her chest. She felt like she could sleep for days if he didn't move from beside her.  
"Everything's perfect."

He thought about how far away from his father and the carnival they were and how indeed perfect it was being just the two of them in their own safe little bubble existing neither in the carnival world or the real world but in one their own. His own little world with his best friend, his girlfriend and now his lover. There were many other words he knew he could eventually be able to attach her to and his heart soared with longing. All in good time. And if there was something he did have with this woman, it was time. His whole life in fact.  
"Yes, it is."


End file.
